Lovers Confidant: World Famous Model
by arcanawildcard
Summary: AU - For Akira, meeting his childhood babysitter in Tokyo was a stroke of pure luck. For Ann, meeting the kid she used to babysit was the trigger for a whole lot of questionable decisions. / shuann/akirann/renann; ex-babysitter/childhood friends AU; alternate lovers confidant link;


**Rank 1**

* * *

_Half off our Mega-Special Double Chocolate Supreme Crepes for all the couples out there!_

"Man, kinda makes you wish you had a girlfriend, huh?" said Morgana, popping his head out of Akira's school bag to better read the ad sign. "Though I guess double chocolate kinda sounds..." He trailed off to wrinkle his furry nose and poke out his flat tongue, a jarringly human expression on a very feline face.

Akira, who could take or leave the double chocolate crepes, declined to answer. Wasn't _Morgana_ the one always telling him he wasn't a crepe guy?

Morgana brightened. "Maybe if you spent more time with—"

A deep sigh reached his ears. "It's the _double chocolate_ ones too..."

Morgana turned his head in that direction, then said, "..._Oh,"_ in the _strangest_ voice Akira had ever heard from him, sinking slowly back into the bag.

Akira looked up in curiosity, and found...

"..._Ann-neesan?"_

The woman that was _undoubtedly_ Akira's childhood babysitter turned—flesh and blood and _not_ on the cover of a magazine, lips parting and blinking liquid blue eyes—and gave him a very blank look.

Then she squinted at his hair.

"Aki-chan?"

...Of all the embarrassing nicknames she could have picked, she had to pick that one, Akira thought, a little despairing.

_"Aki-chan?"_ Morgana echoed incredulously, snout poking out of the zipper.

Ann still looked a little floored. "In Tokyo. W-with a cat."

"Not a cat," Morgana half mumbled, half whined as he retreated back into the bag.

"He says he's not a cat," said Akira intelligently, because that sure was Ann standing outside the crepe shop he passed every time he went to the movie theater or the drug store. Ann who he'd last seen when they both lived in Kamakura and Ann who was just as... _Ann_ as she'd ever been, and...

Ann inhaled through her mouth, then pursed those lips at his school bag. "He... kiiiinda looks like one."

"It's a curse," Akira agreed.

Her mouth twitched in a way that had a flood of nostalgia tripping up his heart, then let out a peal of laughter that was just _different_ enough to make that nostalgia so much worse—and low and smooth enough to make his stomach jolt.

(Hey, fourteen-year-old Akira. There's a _hell_ of an update to go with that collection of Vague magazines stashed under your futon.)

When she cracked her eyes open again, they were sparkling, warm and happy. "It'd be pretty typical of me to say you haven't changed a bit, wouldn't it."

_Ouch._

He tilted his head. "Maybe a little."

"Well, your poker face sure has gotten better," she allowed, still smiling, and shifted her weight at the hip—no girlish swing of her wrists, and Akira _missed_ it. "We should catch up! You gotta tell me why you're in Tokyo. And why you have a cat. Especially the cat."

"I'd like that," he said, even as his stomach churned a bit at the thought of trying to explain an _assault charge._

Her smile warmed even more (_oh no_), then she glanced at the ad sign with an expression of pure pouting defeat.

Well, the offer was for couples, after all. She'd come alone, hadn't she...?

Then she stilled. Glancing between him and the sign, a hopeful glint in her eyes, and Akira abruptly remembered all those little schemes they'd run together when he was a kid.

...Oh.

(Somehow, it was a much more appealing prospect to pretend to be her boyfriend than it was to pretend to be her brother. Three guesses as to why, and they all counted.)

"...Want to get a crepe together?"

* * *

The 'con' went off without a hitch (unless you counted the way his right arm was still tingling from having her hang off of it or the miniature heart attack he'd had when she kissed his cheek for the cashier), Ann happily nibbling on their spoils as they walked through central Shibuya.

"Man, what a blast from the past!" she sighed, stretching, a blonde curl feathering elegantly in the hollow behind her ear, the dangling stone of her earring shining in the sunlight as she walked.

She'd pulled her hair into a single high ponytail, voluminous waves of ash-gold held high enough to reveal her nape in flashes, brand name sunglasses perched on the crown of her head and her lip color something dark and subdued. Mature.

(She didn't _bounce_ anymore, not like he remembered, but she'd traded it for something surer, smoother, more elegant, the confidence in her smiles and the way she seemed to fit into her own skin—and he wasn't saying it was _attractive,_ but he was saying that he'd do just about anything to get her to look at him like that, and it was probably going to be a very long time before he could get off to anything other than the idea of her pushing him down and teaching him how to please her, so.)

Point of the matter was that he may have ended up spacing out a bit, because he was only aware that she'd been speaking when she waved a hand in front of his face.

"Earth to Akira," she was sing-songing, mischevious and fond. "Still in there, Aki-neko?"

"Mm... sorry." He did his best to kick his wayward thoughts under the mental bed. "You were saying something?"

"I asked about your parents," she said dryly. "How are they? Do they still let you get away with murder?"

...Ironic question, considering.

"As long as I'm home by curfew," he said—which was not necessarily untrue. They would have bailed him out of the town jail and forgotten the incident by the time they ended up at their next job engagement if the man hadn't sued. "And they were fine the last time I checked."

(Not that either side checked often. They'd make sure he'd gotten to his new home in moderately good condition, and hadn't called since.)

He changed the subject before she could pursue the line of thought. "But what are you doing in Tokyo?"

"I've got a permanent gig with one of the agencies here." She frowned and pulled out her phone. "Speaking of which, my manager said she'd call today..."

_Permanent_ definitely implied that she was going to be in the city as long as he was. _Hell yes._

"—Shoot!"

_That_ startled him. "Hm?"

"She texted me and I _missed it,"_ she moaned, drawing a hand over her wince. A few rapid taps, and: "Looks like I can still make it to the location if I run..."

Akira glanced down, almost surprised to find that she'd worn sneakers with her blouse and capris. "Better get going."

"Ugh," she said. She glanced up (up!) at him with a pout. "We can meet up again soon, though, right? You're going to be in town for a while?"

He dipped his chin and her face just _lit up._

His heart may have skipped a beat or two. Maybe.

"Here, trade numbers with me—" Another slew of rapid tapping and she started bouncing on the heels of her feet as she waited for him to catch up. "—I'll text you, okay?"

"...Looking forward to it," he said once he managed to to rip his eyes away from the... _fascinating_ effects of that movement.

_Looking away_ meant that he missed it when she leaned towards him and caught his wrist, yanking him off balance—

And meeting him with a kiss on the cheek.

"It was _awesome_ to see you again," she giggled into one ringing ear, then drew back and checked her phone, saying, "Okay, now I _really_ gotta run. Later!"

Dignity thrown to the wind, Ann sprinted back in the direction of Shibuya Station, leaving Akira to cover the waxy mark she'd left with a numb hand, cheeks hot and the whole right side of his face tingling.

(_I am __**thou**__, thou art I...  
Thou hast acquired a __**new**__ vow._

_It shall __**become**__ the wings of rebellion  
that __**breaketh**__ thy chains of captivity._

_With the birth of the Lovers Persona,  
I have obtained the winds of __**blessing**__ that  
shall lead to freedom and __**new**__ power._)

Morgana poked his nose out of the bag, but didn't say anything for a long moment. Akira didn't blame him.

Eventually, in a half-heartbroken mumble: "You're _so_ lucky..."

Akira could only concur.

* * *

**Rank 2**

* * *

**Ann:** Hey! I've got a free afternoon today.  
**Ann:** Wanna finish catching up?  
**Akira:** I'd love to.  
**Ann:** Sweet! I'll be waiting downtown. Wear street clothes, okay?

* * *

The reason for the street clothes became obvious once he arrived. The cafe she'd scouted was also having a couples deal; a free slice of strawberry cake for 'lovers' to share with an order of ¥1,000 or more.

"There's my fiance!" she greeted cheerfully. She was wearing a distressingly fluttery skirt that swished around her legs just above the knee. "Looking good."

"'Fiance'?" he echoed, suddenly feeling underdressed. It wasn't that they didn't match, but that _definitely_ looked like date-wear. He slowly offered his arm to the expectant gleam in her eyes. "When did that happen?"

She latched on, bumping into his side with soft curves. "You forgot already? But you were the one who proposed!"

(_Close close close she was so __**close**_—)

He raised an eyebrow.

"When you were seven," she reminded him, grinning as she twined their fingers together and his pulse skittered out of rhythm. "'When I grow up, I'm gonna marry Ann-neesan'—you used to say it all the time. You gave me a ring and everything! That was soooooo cute..."

...Because, you know, _of course_ she still remembered that. Excuse him while he found a rock to crawl under.

Unaware of his suffering, she tugged him impatiently towards the quaint dark-wood door. "C'mon, let's get cake. And then tell me about the cat!"

* * *

They ended up sitting in one of those circular booths side by side, a set of cream puffs in front of him and a set of danishes (and a slice of strawberry cake) in front of her.

She stuck a bite of the cake in her mouth with a noise of absolute _pleasure,_ which was... uh... yeah. _Yeah._ "This is the _best_ place for strawberry cake, I swear..."

"Sounds like it," he said, without _much_ of a pause and only a _little bit_ strained. An accomplishment, considering the circumstances. _Did someone turn off the AC?_

"Mhmm..." she agreed blissfully, then tilted her head and said, "Okay, start at the beginning."

* * *

The bliss vanished like smoke when he said 'probation' and 'one year' and 'I didn't do it'—and he only felt half as guilty as he probably _should_ at the horror that replaced it.

(Her blatant care and worry aside, Ann protectively hemming herself in at his side and having to look _up_ at him was _distracting,_ okay.)

"I really can't believe they did that," she murmured, staring sightlessly into the cake and close enough that he could feel the heat from her arm. "What kind of _bullshit_..."

Hearing Ann swear was downright strange.

Actually _saying_ that he'd sort of given up on the law and was now enacting vigilante justice with the help of a smartphone app that let him jump into people's psyches probably wouldn't help, so he said, "I'm getting used to it," instead.

"You shouldn't _have_ to get used to it."

He didn't exactly have anything to reply to that with, so he didn't.

She heaved a soft sigh and leaned in a little more—for his comfort or hers, he couldn't tell, but maybe it was both—enough to press against his side again and rest her cheek on his shoulder and let him catch another whiff of her perfume, and he _knew_ that this easy affection was all just holdover from the days when she would pinch his cheeks and make him sit in her lap, but now he was _sixteen,_ not six.

As it turned out, things felt different when you were sixteen and not six.

"...I wish I could _do_ something," she said, so quiet he barely caught it.

'So how do you feel about vigilantism?' ran into, 'Kisses make everything better,' which ran into, 'Meeting you here is enough for me,' all of which were _terrible_ and none of which escaped him.

They sat in silence a little bit longer, then Ann seemed to realize the cake had remained in her possession the whole time, because she glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, then captured one of the decorative strawberries on her fork and held it aloft. "Want a bite?"

He tried not to think about indirect kisses as he stooped down and took it with his teeth.

A little big to get in one bite, but he managed. Ann's reaction to it was starting to make sense; this place picked their fruit well.

"All better?" she joked weakly, eyes still far too sad, and that was no good.

"All better," he replied after he'd swallowed, about an octave too low as he closed one eye and slid her half a smirk.

Ann stared.

He leaned back, self-consciously thumbing away the smudge of whipped cream at the corner of his mouth, wondering if he'd crossed a line somehow, but then she exhaled a shaky laugh, wide-eyed, and looked away—and was that a _blush?_

"W-wow, you're good," she said, somewhere between impressed and disbelieving, and... she _was_ blushing.

Ann. Blushing. _Blushing._ Over him.

Tokyo? Worth it. _So worth it._

Then she looked at him again and snorted. "What's with that smug look?" She poked an elbow into his bicep, blush fading by degrees. "I always knew you'd manage to grow into your charm."

He took a second to fix his face (had he really looked _smug?_) before sniffing, "Of course I did."

"Mm-hm, mm-hm," she said with her nose in the air and smug look of her own. "You were already getting love confessions when you were eight! It would be weird if you didn't, to be honest."

Akira, with his mind mostly on how he could get that blush to come back, let that dangle.

Ann stretched her arms high above her head with a sigh that settled right next to those earlier hums into his hindbrain, smiling vacantly at the art display on the far wall, then relaxed in a rush with _fwoomph_ noise and leered at him from under perfect eyelashes.

He waited.

In a low, confidential voice that went through him after the sigh, she said, "So, I gotta know... How many hearts have you broken so far?"

"...What?"

"At your new school!" She seemed entirely _delighted_ at the prospect of him breaking hearts—of people giving him their hearts to break. "How many confessions have you turned down? C'mon, you gotta have a number."

"...Zero."

She gave him a suspicious look. "Then how many have you _accepted?"_

_"Zero,"_ he grumbled.

"Confessions ignored or carefully dodged...?"

"Zero." It was possible that he was sulking. Just possible.

She leaned away and scooted back, leaving his side cold, then squinted and looked him over.

He tilted his head.

She reached out and plucked his glasses off his nose, then looked him over again, somehow even more confused.

He blinked. "...What?"

"I mean... you look like _this,"_ she said in a very frank sort of tone as she gestured at, well, all of him, "and you talk like _that_ with a voice like _that,_ and you've got the whole _mysterious transfer student_ thing, so...?"

"Apparently the assault charge is a turn off for some people," he said, wondering how on earth he was supposed to _feel_ about that as he picked up a cream puff and pulled it in half. The mousse held up admirably, matte peaks refusing to succumb to gravity.

"That just makes you, like, the _ultimate_ bad boy!" she protested, slumping as she succumbed to gravity herself and poked her cake with a pout. She seemed honestly put out by his lack of admirers.

...Really, how the _hell_ was he supposed to feel about this?

He was half-tempted to ask if she'd have gone for the 'ultimate bad boy' as a teenager herself, but he was afraid of the answer. Instead, he retrieved his glasses and put them back on as he said, "Well, it doesn't matter."

She glanced at him sideways, the angle only serving to catch the lamplight in her sky-blue eyes and show off how very long her 'lashes were.

He studied the cream puff for a second, then gave her an innocent almost-smile. "I gave my heart away to my beloved Ann-neesan a long time ago."

It came out substantially less dry than he'd intended it, but remained passably casual, so he could let that slide.

His internal betting card was fifty-fifty on whether she'd blush again (please please please) or just laugh and pinch his cheek (he wouldn't be surprised), but what he got was an odd blend of the two.

She stared at him for a long moment, a pretty flush deepening on her cheeks, then she jabbed her fork in his direction. _"See?_ That's what I'm talking about! You say things like that like they're nothing! With that face!"

He didn't lean back from the fork, but he did eye it down, plaintively wondering, "What's wrong with my face...?"

She ignored him. "And you always have!" She rested the fingertips of her free hand against her forehead, almost scowling. "With anyone who gives you, like, an opening." She shot him a shrewd look, face still pink. "You _do_ talk to the girls at your school, don't you?"

(He did. It was just that he only ever truly _talked_ with the other Phantom Thieves, and between the two girls on the team, coming on to Shiho when her jaw still clenched at accidental innuendo would be about as inappropriate as inappropriate came, and Eiko was still trying to cobble her life back together after the whole Kaneshiro-Tsukasa debacle—giving her family _any_ reason to doubt her association with the Phantom Thieves would be... bad.

Akira could be an asshole, but he wasn't that much of an asshole.)

"Assault charge," he reminded her. It had the benefit of being true.

She heaved a sigh and dropped the fork on the plate with a clatter. Reaching out to pinch his cheek with a sad smile, she said, "You deserve... so much better."

Akira supposed it was only a matter of time before this happened—that is to say, before the side of his face got caught in his Nee-san's near-painful grip of love—but the warmth in that murmur was a substantial consolation prize.

Then she saw his dour expression and let go of him with a snort. "Well, at least _I_ still think you're cute."

Somewhere between the sharp sting to his pride and the flood of nostalgia, his eight-year-old self came forward to say, "Boys aren't _cute,_ Nee-san."

"Are too!" She flashed him a winsome smile stolen right off her own sixteen-year-old self's face and said, "How else am I supposed to explain you?"

...'How' indeed.

He didn't answer immediately, which gave Ann the space to check the time on her phone and wince.

"Work?" he guessed, heart sinking.

"Yeah," she sighed. "It's not 'til four, but this client's kinda... strict. Being late _wouldn't_ be good."

Akira tilted his head.

She shook it off—and then he watched as an idea blossomed over her face. An idea that involved him, probably, if the way she was looking at him was any indication.

"Spill." _What am I saying 'yes' to this time?_

Her eyes sparkled. "You should let me dress you up again—you know, for old times' sake!"

(That was... oddly tame, all told.)

He nodded right on cue, and she beamed at him for it.

"It's a date!" she chirped, very obviously not meaning a single thing by it, but it made his stomach flip and knot anyway.

She paid the tab (Akira tried to protest, but Ann overrode him, what with her having a full-time job and eight years seniority on him, and he dropped it before she could flick his forehead and start up with the babytalk—pride came in degrees), then plucked her box of untouched danishes off the table and wriggled out of the booth.

Then, in possibly the most _casual_ way possible, she leaned over, rested her hand on his shoulder, and planted her lips on his cheek in an honest-to-god _smooch._

"See you later, darling," she said like it was _nothing_ while several of Akira's organs attempted to escape through his mouth and his ears seemed to have spontaneously burst into flame. "I love you."

He managed a strangled hum and something like a nod that seemed to suffice in the conversational gap.

She gave him another one of those radiation-meltingly bright smiles, and left at a rational, mature pace, like an engaged woman who'd just bid her husband-to-be goodbye in a completely normal sort of way, and had absolutely not committed brutal murder on any poor hormonal teenage boys who just happened to be at the wrong (right) place at the wrong (right) time.

(_**Arcana Lovers: Rank 2**_

_New Ability:_  
**[Flirtation]**  
_Sometimes win over shadows instantly upon entering negotiations._)

Right. So. Now. He should... probably. Go track down Morgana.

...After washing away the mark she'd left, still burning with the memory of her lips and _darling_ and _I love you_ and—

You know... he could sit here for a few more minutes. That was fine.

* * *

**Rank 3**

* * *

**Ann:** Got a free afternoon?  
**Ann:** Shiruki just got their newest men's line in, and it's so *totally* you.  
**Ann:** You should come model it for me!  
**Ann:** I'll be hanging around the Underground Mall in Shibuya Station for a few hours, so let me know.  
**Akira:** I'm headed your way.  
**Ann:** You're awesome.  
**Ann:** See you there!

* * *

There was something almost _relaxing_ about Ann shoving armloads of clothes into his hands and then closing the dressing room curtain behind him, Akira mused as he shucked the latest shirt she'd handed him and dusted it off before putting it back on the hanger. It brought back memories of simpler times, when his parents were marginally less absent and Ann had had a full-time modeling job with a different agency.

The fact that her appreciation took the form of impressed hums and considering half-smirks instead of cooing and squeals was a _hell_ of an improvement, though. It kept a warm hum of flattered delight simmering in his gut even after they'd long passed what should have been his limit.

The next outfit was slacks and a scoop-neck sleeveless shirt, unzipped hoodie and a short scarf slung around his neck, unwound, and Ann's absolute _joy_ in seeing him in it was... yeah.

_"This_ one's a keeper," she said, low and satisfied—and, okay, the way she said it didn't sound dirty but _maybe_ it was a bad idea for him to think in terms like 'satisfied'. As a thought.

"I can't buy them all, you know."

This was the fifth or sixth outfit so far to get the seal of approval. He'd probably have to grit his teeth through buying even one of them; this store wasn't cheap.

"Don't worry about it," she said so airily that if she'd been anyone else, he _definitely_ would have worried about it. "Okay, try these next!"

Ann had always let him know if he should worry about things, though, so he just accepted the set of clothes she shoved at him and went back into the dressing room.

* * *

After he tried on what seemed like half the store, Ann had collected eight whole outfits from the lot, each outfit easily adding up to over ten or twenty thousand yen individually, and he definitely didn't want to think about how much the total would ring up to. Metaverse spoils could _probably_ cover it, but that would leave them short on supplies and weapons and that... would _definitely_ be bad.

Half-wincing at the load as they stood in the queue, he said, "...Ann-neesan, I told you..."

"And _I_ told you not to worry about it," she huffed, puffing her chest and sticking her nose in the air and giving him an _excellent_ view of her ample cleavage—that he definitely should not be looking at. Definitely. Which was why he was definitely going to look away. Right now.

(He did actually manage to look away before she caught him, but it was a near thing.)

Unaware, she looked up (_up_) at him with an impish grin and went on. "Because this is a gift from your _amazing_ onee-chan who just wants to dress you up nice."

_Well, now I feel like a sugar baby._

(Which brought him odd visions about her following him into the dressing room and gripping his hair and pushing him down until his head was between her legs and—nope, nope, nope, _stop right there._)

"...I can dress myself, you know."

She plucked the sleeve of his worn, plain white overshirt with a not-quite-judgemental look. "But that's no fun."

He glanced away, considering how to reply to that, and his eyes landed on a magazine rack.

The newest issue of Astrapolitan had Ann on the cover.

He picked it out of the line of similar publications and admired the spread, doing his best to ignore the Astrapolitan-typical text around her.

She was wearing a strapless red vinyl... shell (dress? The picture didn't extend far enough to tell) with far too many zippers over a white T-shirt with a low V-neck, the central zipper unzipped just enough to support and display a decent amount of cleavage, a finger shushing bright scarlet lips fixed in an oddly empty smile.

(At which point Akira was faced with the strange realization that the woman on the paper was the product of an airbrush, wiped free of Ann's slew of little imperfections, and that the result just... couldn't compare. That a spread he would have been all over even just a few months ago now looked fake and plastic, because Ann was right there, dressed much more conservatively than the spread (all ironed linen and knits that would probably smell faintly of detergent and fabric softener and _her_ if he were to get closer), her braid frizzing at the ends (it would probably prickle and smooth under his fingers if he were to tug it to get her attention) and her neckline drawing a little shadow on the skin under the dip of her collarbone (the cloth loose enough that it would probably shift aside like it was nothing if he were to pull her against him and taste that shadow).

...All hypotheticals. Obviously.)

"Astrapolitan?" said Ann, ducking so she could look at the back. "I didn't know you had an interest in that kind of stuff, Aki-chan."

"No." He turned it so she could see the cover. "Just an interest in you."

...Which sounded much more loaded than he intended when the bottom title was, _10 RED-HOT TIPS to MAKE HIM SWEAT - Better sex for a better you!_ but there wasn't much he could do about that.

Thankfully, she brushed right past it, frowning at the picture. "That didn't turn out half bad."

"Is that a surprise?"

"This director wasn't happy with anything—I'm almost surprised I made it onto the cover at all." She tugged it from his fingers and studied it closer, then added wryly, "...This is one of the first shots, too."

"Being a model sounds tough."

"Sometimes!" she admitted, checking the back cover again, then resettling the clothes in her arms to free both hands and rapidly flipping through the issue itself. "It all depends on the client. The tough jobs are usually pretty rewarding though..." She trailed off, pursing her lips. "Huh. They didn't use it."

"Hm?"

"The lipstick print," she said, going through the magazine again, but slower this time. "They had me kiss a piece of glass like twenty times to add a mark to the front cover, but it looks like didn't make the cut."

"Now that's a shame."

"I guess so, but that's just work," she sighed, and made to put it back on the rack. "They still paid me for it, so I can't really be mad."

He took the magazine before she could put it down and laid it over his own armful of clothing.

"...You're buying it?"

"It has you in it." He shifted it so he could see _her_ a little clearer and the text a little less. Strange disillusionment aside, he did make it a point to buy anything that had Ann in it. "It's too bad they left out the mark."

She blinked at the addition to his load. "You're not, like, embarrassed?"

"Should I be?"

"Uhh..." she said, her mouth crooked in a way that said she couldn't tell if she should believe him or not.

He was, kind of, but, "It's worth it. What kind of fan would I be if I didn't support your work?"

She looked startled for a second, then the crook turned into a delighted grin, nudging his bicep with an elbow. "Cute _and_ devoted! Man, I sure am lucky to have a fan like you."

"Boys aren't _cute,_ Nee-san." Apparently it bore repeating.

She cocked her head in a preen that gave him another glance down her neckline. "They are when they're my fans!"

Whatever he'd been going to reply to that had mysteriously vanished, so he looked away and left it be.

Neither of them spoke again until they reached the cashier, who greeted them both with a smile, looking expectantly at Akira and nearly missing the moment when Ann held out her credit card.

The customer service smile didn't falter as she took it, but her eyes did flick between the two customers and the pile of men's clothing on the counter with well-hidden confusion—confusion only grew as the total rang higher and higher with every piece scanned and Ann, completely unconcerned with the blow to her wallet, started to fix her makeup.

The cashier glanced at him, a question in her eyes, and he tried not to squirm. After all, Akira was the guy here, and he was standing next to a very pretty and very well-dressed lady who seemed to be buying an entire wardrobe for him.

He _really_ felt like a sugar baby now.

Ann, dabbing at her matte-red lipstick, didn't seem to catch the implications of this scene.

"Oh!" she said abruptly, catching the cashier in the middle of looking for a tag on the one jacket that was just a little too big. "Remind me that we should have that one fitted—it has so much potential."

That was definitely Ann's irrepressible fashion eye speaking, buuuut...

Akira leaned forward, resting his elbows on the counter and arching his back a little, and, at the cashier's pleasantly baffled look, smirked languidly and purred, "Onee-chan always takes such good care of me."

The cashier blinked—the two of them were obviously unrelated.

Ann just glanced over at him, mildly confused herself at the change in address, then said, "Of course, Aki-neko. Why wouldn't I?" Then she smacked her lips one last time and stowed away her compact. "Here, give me the magazine."

That confusion infected him next, but he handed the issue of Astrapolitan over all the same.

She scanned the front cover critically for a few seconds, then raised it to her lips and—kissed it?

She handed it back to him, now decorated with the remnants of her fresh coat of lipstick. "For my cutest and most devoted fan," she teased.

Which was his cue to say for the third time that, _boys aren't cute, Nee-san,_ but that would be no fun. Instead he said, "You spoil me, _darling."_

Ann, sensing that she was being poked for giving him that particular embarrassing nickname, poked her tongue out at him, thoroughly unrepentant.

On the other side of the counter, the customer service smile finally cracked, the cashier's eyes going wide in realization.

Turning just enough that Ann wouldn't catch it, Akira winked.

The cashier flushed bright pink and buried herself in the mountain of cloth.

(_**Arcana Lovers: Rank 3**_

_New Ability:_  
**[Artful Misdirection]**  
_Sometimes change the element of an attack to an element that the target is weak to._)

* * *

"You look like a cat that got the cream, _Aki-neko,"_ Ann noted as she stowed her wallet back in her purse, bags hanging from her forearms. "Did the magazine really mean that much to you?"

"Of course," he replied, more bags hanging off his own arms, but the magazine resting in his hands, both for fear of ruining his new clothes, and for fear of ruining the perfect lipstick mark. All that practice of hers had really paid off—he'd have to see if he could preserve it somehow.

Ann gave him a look to let him know that she _affectionately_ didn't believe him for a second.

She left it alone, though, even as they wandered the mall together, pointing out shops and goods to each other (she let him buy her flan from the supermarket, and her innocent delight in it was definitely enough to keep him from finishing his own), letting time slip and melt away between them until Akira's alarm let them know it was time to stop.

He walked her to her train platform, jostled by the evening Shibuya crowd, accepting the bags she gave to him, and it was only when his hands were full that she bid him goodbye—with yet another kiss on the cheek.

A kiss that was neither hurried nor required, just easy warmth that had her hand laid in the crook of his elbow, her breasts pressed against his arm, her nose brushing his temple as soft lips met his skin in a casual caress, heedless of the dirty looks it was garnering them.

It only lasted a second, but she stuck close so he could hear her say, _"Man,_ I missed you. Don't be a stranger, okay?"

He nodded dumbly, ears ringing and heart pounding a mile a minute, and then she drew away and boarded the train with one last wave.

Akira wandered back to Leblanc in a daze, only half-hearing the sigh Morgana greeted him with at the door.

* * *

**Rank 4**

* * *

**Ann:** Guess who found an even *better* couples' deal right by her next shoot~  
**Ann:** Help me, Akira! You're my only hope.  
**Akira:** Be right there, your highness.  
**Ann:** My hero!  
**Ann:** May the force be with you.

* * *

The shoot was just wrapping up when he got there. He'd changed into the lowest-key of his new gifts, the comforting weight of his watch contrasting the harsher edges of new clothing, but the mild discomfort was worth it when Ann laid eyes on him and just _beamed._

"You're early," she greeted him happily, the crew behind her packing up supplies and the other models checking their makeup and their bags. She tweaked the sleeve of his jacket. "And you look great!"

_Of course you'd think so when you were the one who picked it out_—but even as he thought that, he found himself straightening and fighting a smile anyway.

"Takamaki!" singsonged one of the models. "I think this is yours... Who is this?"

The question was much flatter than the rest of it, and Akira glanced over to find a woman with silky brown hair and razor-sharp brown eyes, an angelic Sweet-N-Low smile plastered on her pretty face as she held out a purse like she'd forgotten it was in her hand.

"Oh, thanks Mika!" said Ann, either not seeing or ignoring the expression as she accepted the bag. "This is Akira! Akira Kurusu. He's the kid I used to babysit when I was a high schooler." She then reached out to pinch his cheek, to his quiet mortification. "Isn't he just the _cutest_ thing?"

Somehow, the worst part of... _that_ was the beatific smile she said it with.

The model—Mika—sized him up, her roaming over him from the soles of his scuffed shoes to the tips of his irrepressibly curly hair, her displeasure growing with every inch of him.

He met her gaze as impassively as he could manage when the side of his face was still caught between Ann's thumb and forefinger, and that only seemed to irritate her more.

"...Adorable," she said after several seconds, dry enough to parch a desert.

Akira was sort of insulted, but mostly just impressed. He was definitely taking notes. (Not that he thought he'd _need_ to parch a desert, but you never knew.)

"Aw, c'mon, Mika," Ann said with a sigh, which Akira thought was aimed at their stare-off until he saw that she was looking into her bag. "We promised no more tricks!"

"Tricks?" said Mika in a voice that was about as honest and sweet as her smile. "What tricks?"

Ann gave her that patiently, pleasantly good-humored look she'd always given Akira when she knew he was full of shit.

Mika held up under it a lot longer than he would have, and Ann kept it up a lot longer than she would have if Akira had been the one refusing to spill, but eventually, Mika glanced away, digging into her own bag and fishing out a paper (letter?) of some sort.

"Take it, then."

"Thank you," Ann replied graciously, taking it and immediately opening it, scanning the page with a critical eye, then holding it up to the light and squinting.

"...I didn't have the time to print fakes," said Mika, folding her arms. She seemed more amused than anything, but even her amusement came with edges.

"Just checking." Ann lowered the letter to fix Mika with a distinctly _parental_ look of disappointment.

Mika did the perfectly poised model version of rolling her eyes. "Not _one_ of you wannabes deserve that shot." Her too-light tone dropped into something slightly more appropriately threatening, but still very light. "Give it up."

It bounced right off, leaving only vaguely judgemental cheer in its wake. "Not if you're gonna play like that."

Mika's lip curled. "It's mine."

"Then prove it fair and square." Ann wiggled a finger, cocking her hip and grinning in sly challenge. "Should be no problem for a top-class model like you, right?"

Mika studied Ann for a long moment, then said, "You really don't have what it takes. Give up and go home, Takamaki. Leave this one to the professionals."

Ann looked mildly offended. "I was only late to a shoot with them once! And I've never been late since."

Mika clicked her tongue and made a noise that sounded sort of like, _that's not what I meant,_ then at a normal speaking volume, she said, "Your funeral," then turned away before Ann could reply.

Well, 'away' was a strong word, because the person she turned to was Akira.

"I'm afraid I left a bad impression," she said, the Sweet-N-Low smile making a comeback. "I've never seen you around before. Are you new? With a different agency?"

Akira blinked, wrong-footed. "...What's it to you?"

(It was only after he said it that it occurred to him that he was still wearing the (model-worthy) clothes Ann had gifted to him.)

"Oh, nothing!" The Sweet-N-Low smile took a few levels in aspartame. "I was just wanted to know how you got your skin looking _so smooth._ C'mon, what's your secret?"

"I don't... have a secret," he said helplessly, when what he really wanted to say was, _Why do people keep commenting on my skin?_

"Oh really?" Her eyes were lit in the most interest than he'd seen from her yet. "What lotion do you use? What soap? I've just started trying Clarins but I'm _so_ not in love with the results."

Akira was pretty sure he'd never heard of that brand—most likely because he only knew the names of the ¥198-per-bottle brands sold at the convenience store he part-timed at. Even then, they all went by in enough of a blur that sometimes he forgot the names mid-swipe while he was at the till.

She paused to study him, then, with a fixed smile, she said, "You don't have a clue what I'm talking about."

He gave her a slow shake of the head. He was glad Morgana was on another walk, because he was pretty sure that if he were here, he'd start suggesting Akira memorize lotion brands to get in Ann's good graces, and there were _limits._

She didn't _obviously_ glance between him and Ann, but he got that impression all the same. Her smile melting like sweetener in coffee, she bit out, "I... have somewhere to be."

They both watched her stalk off, and Ann cheerfully shouted, "Remember to give those back!" after her.

He and Ann then went to collect the rest of her things from the makeshift lockers by the van, trading waves with her coworkers as they passed.

"...That was interesting."

"Mika's amazing, isn't she?" said Ann, actually seeming to _mean_ it.

"...That's one way to put it." He did have to give her credit for her gall.

"She's not always honest, but she worked so hard for her shot," she went on, sliding off her heels and taking a pair of sneakers out of the collection of handbags and personal effects. "It's actually pretty inspiring." She snorted as she dropped down to tie her laces. "She _hated_ me when we first met, you know."

_I think she still hates you,_ Akira didn't say. There weren't many ways to interpret _any_ of that otherwise.

"And, you know?" Ann went on, unconcerned. "I deserved it." She pulled the bow tight and switched to the other shoe. "I wasn't taking my job seriously _at all,_ and she saw right through that. Heck, I don't think I _ever_ would have taken it seriously if it wasn't for her." She finished off the other with a little wiggle and bounce, then swung her arms as she stood, finishing off with a hand on her hip and a smile she had to tilt up a little higher to reach him. "She gets _really_ pissed off at people who don't work for their looks."

(That explained some things.

Seriously, what _was_ it with people and _his skin?_)

But here was Ann, chattering happily about how grateful she was to the woman desperately trying to be her enemy without a trace of ill-will, and he was remembering why he'd always thought of her as invincible.

"...What?" she asked, mild and nonplussed when she noticed him staring at her.

There were a lot of things _to_ say, but what came out in the end was, "...You're amazing."

"What, really?" She slipped her palm into the crook of his elbow, and the touch burned, his heart doing a little one-two step at her proximity. "I dunno, but..." She flashed him yet _another_ brilliant grin. "I'm glad you think so."

He looked away before he could start to blush.

Which led him to catch Mika's eye as she was striding past at just barely model-acceptable speed.

Somehow, her sickly sweet smile looked even faker now, and not even by contrast.

In the face of the thinly veiled hatred in her eyes, Akira found it cake-easy to straighten and pretend he was wearing his will of rebellion in trench coat form, cocking his head and _smirking_ just to see if he could get that hatred to intensify.

It did, and quite satisfyingly so. He was pretty sure the only reason she didn't start trying to cast Maragidyne was because they were still in a public space.

'Striding' turned into what was definitely 'storming', understated as it was, and Mika left, hissing, "Goddamn _jailbait,"_ as she passed.

_Wait, what?_

He nearly stumbled, head whipping around to track her retreat.

"Hm?" Ann said at the double-take. "Something up?"

"Mmm..." That was... probably his imagination, right? ...Right? "It's nothing."

"Oh-kay then..." she said, dubious. Then she shook it off, tugging on his arm and looking absolutely _radiant_ while she did it. "That means it's mochi-time!"

"Mochi-time it is," he agreed with a not-laugh, and let himself be dragged led down the street.

(_**Arcana Lovers: Rank 4**_

_New Ability:_  
**[Ann's Resilience]**  
_Sometimes heal status ailments in one turn._)

* * *

By the time they were safely situated at one of the cafe's outside tables with a jumbo platter of strawberry, cherry, chocolate, and red bean mochi between them (_Special! __Lovebirds__ can share __any__ size __**Cold-n-Sweet Hunny Love! Platter**__ for just __¥999__!_), Akira had come to the conclusion that no, he hadn't just been imagining the whole _jailbait_ thing.

Which was...

'Jailbait' explained a lot about his life, actually.

Heh.

_Lucky me._

Across the table, Ann bit into a strawberry mochi, looking like the sweet had made her entire life worthwhile.

Only half watching the unintentional show, Akira reached for one of the cherry ones that she'd been eating around—apparently she still didn't like sour in her treats.

He didn't really care about the taste either way, but there was something wistful in helping her clear the platter.

He'd just finished the first and was reaching for the second when Ann said, "Oh, did Mika say something to you? It sounded like it, but I was kiiiinda distracted."

Akira contemplatively squished the soft, pale red ball that had been the source of her distraction. "'Goddamn jailbait.'"

"...What?"

"That's what she said," he said, trying and only mostly succeeding in covering up his amusement. "She called me 'goddamn jailbait.'"

Ann snorted, the noise sounding like a laugh that had taken her by surprise. Fishing around the platter for her next choice, she singsonged, "Better be careful, Aki-chan, or some big bad wolf might just gobble you up."

(Perfectly full lower lip caught under a perfect row of white teeth as she searched, understated makeup framing liquid blue eyes, her hair pulled into an artfully messy plait that left locks brushing the perfect skin of her throat, chain dangling a tiny silver lotus just over the soft swell of flesh pushed up by the way she was leaning on her arm...)

Akira blew out a silent sigh (_if only_), then picked out the last chocolate mochi and held it out for her.

Her face lit up in _unfairly_ adorable delight.

His face ached with a smile he couldn't suppress, sunlight warm on his skin and glowing on hers, and he really just couldn't resist saying: "It's a good thing I already have an amazing girlfriend, isn't it?"

(What was even the _point_ of fake-dating if you didn't use it as an excuse to live the lie every now and then?)

"Mm-hm, mm-hm," she agreed, taking a second to beam at the mochi. "And she'll fight off all of those wolves, just watch."

"...My hero."

"You know it!" she laughed, sinking her teeth into the mochi with unfiltered delight.

He wasn't quite sure what his face looked like right then, but whatever it looked like, It made Ann falter and freeze when she met his eye.

At first he just thought she'd given herself a toothache with the ice cream filling—but no, it was very much _him_ she was staring at with that strange look on her face.

He blinked.

She took the mochi out of her mouth without even biting down (now _that_ was alarming), set it back down on the platter in a very controlled sort of way, and stood abruptly enough that her chair screeched over the cobblestone, face reddening rapidly. "I-I'm gonna... go to the ladies' room. N-Need to wash my hands."

And then she bolted, despite the half-full plate still on the table, leaving Akira to watch the sun glint off the spit-shiny side of her abandoned, tooth-marked mochi.

Well, that was... odd.

* * *

When she got back a few minutes later, she was a little sheepish but otherwise fine, and struck up a conversation about all the things they used to get up to back in Kamakura. It was a pretty nice way to pass the afternoon, and they ended up taking up the table long after the mochi had been consumed.

By the time they got to the train station, he was almost, _almost_ prepared for her farewell kiss-on-the-cheek—not _fully_ prepared, but enough that he didn't physically melt at the tight side-hug or the casual peck that landed just below his cheekbone.

(His insides were all still warm, fluttering goo, but that was just a given. No amount of mental prep would change that.)

"Be careful to look out for wolves, 'kay?" she said as she drew back and checked her phone, suddenly looking almost shy, tucking her hair behind a bright red ear. "I'd miss you if you got eaten up because you were just too cute. And remember to call me if you need help!"

...To be fair, 'looking out for wolves' was exactly how he was spending his time in Tokyo, and caution rarely went astray, so—"I'll be careful, promise."

She nodded and glanced in his general direction but not directly at him, and said, "Good." Then, with a distant, half-watt smile while he was still blinking over that, "Annnd that's my train. Later, Aki-chan!"

"Later, Nee-san," he echoed as she walked away, absently pushing his (fake) glasses up his nose as though they might help him see the situation clearer.

They didn't, but he was saved from worrying about it by Morgana finding him first this time, jumping and wriggling into Akira's messenger bag and chattering about a funny encounter he had while people-watching, and the odd tone of the parting was forgotten by the time they got to Leblanc.

* * *

**Rank 5**

* * *

**Ann:** Hey! There's something I could use your help with.  
**Ann:** Not getting sweets.  
**Ann:** Well, maybe getting sweets.  
**Ann:** But that's not what I want to ask about!  
**Ann:** Got any free time today?  
**Akira:** For you? Always.  
**Ann:** You're so cute.  
**Ann:** I'll be waiting!

* * *

"Okay, we need a plan to snatch that top spot out from under Mika's nose," was what she greeted him with when he got downtown, wearing a red dress that didn't have a hemline _nearly_ low enough for his sanity and not an extra layer in sight. He never noticed how much clothing she normally wore until suddenly it was (almost) all gone. "And I _think_ I have a plan."

"I'm listening," he said, which was mostly true. That hem was really very incredibly short, and the legs under it...

She inhaled deeply (_very_ deeply, god) set her hand on a cocked hip and grinned up at him, effectively preventing him from ogling. "Portfolio pieces."

He tilted his head.

"And not just any portfolio pieces." She leaned in confidentially close (_close_)—"They're going to be in collaboration with my dear, _beautiful_ childhood friend, Aki-chan."

"...Are they." First he'd heard of it.

She took his long-suffering tone in stride, leaning back and shrugging it off. "If you say yes," she allowed, instead of overriding him and dragging him along in her undertow like he expected. Huh. "It'd help me out, though. My strengths are in how well I work with other models, and giving the agent exclusive shots that show that off would be a huge leg up."

"So... you're asking me?" he said, dubious. Didn't she have more experienced model friends for this?

(Not that he wouldn't be down to learn anything and everything she cared to teach him, but this was her career. That was important, wasn't it?)

"I mean, you've got the face and the personality for it," she pointed out, shifting her weight in a way that had that hem fluttering around her thighs and a response dying in his throat, "and we already know we work _and_ look great together. I really think we'd kill it."

Any defense he might have had against the words was utterly decimated by the hopeful smile she was fixing him with, the implication that she was only asking because she _wanted_ him on her team, nothing else...

"Sounds great," he said weakly, because there'd never really been any other answer in the first place, but _that_ was just _unfair._

It should probably be illegal for anyone to look that delighted at conscripting him, much less Ann.

"Then it's settled!" she chirped, twisting her hips just so as she led him away. "C'mon!"

And he was helpless to do much more than follow in her wake.

* * *

Apparently at some point in the past eight years, Ann had become one of those models that had her favorite photographers and stylists on speed-dial. It only took about an hour before they arrived at a terribly scenic park and into the waiting arms of a whole team.

(Twenty minutes to travel back to Leblanc so he could pick up a few of the outfits, five minutes to collect them and escape before Sojiro could _smirk_ him to death, another half hour to get to the park itself, two minutes of wandering around looking for the spot, and there they were. A model who'd made it onto the cover of Astrapolitan was a fearsome creature indeed.)

It made learning on the fly a little more awkward, but most of it seemed to be following Ann's lead in posing around the park and listening with half an ear to the photographer's instructions.

(...One or two of which led to Ann's chest pressing against his arm in a way that let him feel the edge of her bra in perfect clarity because she wasn't wearing _nearly_ enough clothing. He spent the minute or two after trying to pretend he hadn't short-circuited nearly as hard as he had, and meeting with... moderate success.)

(Heaven? Hell? Ann in a little red dress was in a league of her own.)

Still, he could definitely see what she meant when she said her strengths were in working with other models. She was _social_ in ways he hadn't appreciated until her artless wiles were focused on him. Easy to talk to, easy to smile for, sweet and chattery and open—it was artless, but also an art form.

She infallibly believed the best of people, and somewhere along the line, she'd figured out how to let them _know_ that.

He wasn't sure how much of it was the natural familiarity between them and how much of it was just that his feelings were written all over his face (for _once;_ Ann was a force of nature when she put her mind to it), but the smile the photographer treated them to at the end of the session was knowingly indulgent.

"It's been a while since I've had the pleasure of workin' a shoot with a real couple," were his actual words. "I'm happy for ya, Takamaki. Yer leavin' a trail of broken hearts behind, but it looks like you landed a good one."

...And here Akira hadn't even been trying.

Oddly enough, Ann _squeaked._

"Oh! No! Nononono—" She was really, honestly starting to _blush;_ not just the 'you took me by surprise' pinkenings of before, but actual fire-engine red _mortification._ Her eyes flicked to his, then bounced away like he'd burned her. "We-we aren't like that. At all. This is just— We're just— _He's just a friend!"_

Firstly, _ow._

Secondly, what?

This was a pretty sharp turnabout from 'darling.'

The photographer glanced over at him, mildly baffled, and all Akira had to offer was a not-shrug and a loyal, "It's true, your honor."

Tragically true, but true all the same.

The photographer looked understanding in a way that suggested that he didn't understand at all.

"One of those, huh." He clapped Akira on the shoulder in a paternal sort of way. "I'm rootin' for you two."

Ann managed to look even _more_ mortified.

He gave her a benign smile. "I'll get these shots to ya in a couple days, Takamaki. Thanks as always for yer business."

She nodded mutely, gaze distant, then, as soon as he was out of sight, she turned to Akira and smiled.

He shrank back.

It didn't necessarily look any _different_ from Ann's normal smiles, and, somehow, that just made it all the more terrifying.

"What do you think about ice cream?" she asked, forced and saccharine and _skin-crawling._ "You still love it, don't you?"

He nodded, less because he loved ice cream (the shine of it had worn off years ago, but it was okay), and more because he was terrified of what would happen if he said no.

"Great! My treat! Let's go!"

* * *

Ten minutes later saw Ann much calmer and two swirled soft serve cones in their joint possession—purchased at full price for once.

Silently contemplating his strawberry ice cream, Akira wondered if he dared ask.

To his surprise, it was Ann who broke the silence.

"Sorry... That was kinda sudden, wasn't it."

"A bit."

"It's just..." She went a little pink around the ears again, giving him a sheepish smile. "It was kinda awkward, you know? You've always kind of been like a little brother to me, it was kind of a shock..."

...Well. It wasn't like he hadn't _known_ that on some level. It was just...

You know.

He wasn't saying that he _was_ going to cry when he got home, but he couldn't discount the possibility. He didn't think he'd ever been so thoroughly shot down in his life.

Except... then she stopped. Looked down at her own cone. Frowned.

"...No, that's not quite right."

Again, he wondered if he dared ask, but this time with a little less fear for his life and a little more fear for his already-pulverized heart.

"...More like a... partner-in-crime, I guess?" she said in a testing sort of tone as she started forward again, catching up to him and falling into step. "A friend. Not... a brother."

(This was giving him flashbacks of that particularly vicious Orthrus they'd found in Mementos in their last trip, damn cat.)

There was an uncomfortable amount of self-deprecation in her expression. "How terrible is that? You've called me 'Nee-san' since the beginning, and I..."

Akira watched the droplet of melted ice cream drip through the contours of the swirl, then decided to throw self-preservation to the wind and said, "Then should I just call you 'Ann' instead?"

She snorted, but it wasn't a particularly happy noise. "Maybe you should."

"Ann." He actually had to physically bite his tongue to stifle the '-neesan'. "Ann-chan?" Easier not to stumble over, but uncomfortably distant.

Ann herself said nothing.

"...Ann," he decided. It was easier the second time around.

"H-Hey, you know what?" she finally said, a funny crackle in her voice. She was blushing (_really_ blushing) again. "'Nee-san' is fine. G-Good, even. You should— You should call me that! Nee-san. Nee-san is good."

"And here I was just getting used to it."

(There was something about her reaction that had his stomach in butterflies and knots and his heart thumping in his ears, but he suspected it would be dangerous to read into it too much—_her_ reaction, not his. He knew _exactly_ what his own reaction was about.)

She let out a shaky laugh, then said, "Your ice cream's melting."

And so it was, sticky drops of cream dripping right over the edge of the cone and spilling down his fingers.

He winced.

At least it hadn't gotten near his watch.

He quickly did what he could to stem the flow of the mess, lapping up the sides of the cone and then what he could get of his fingers, then switched the cone from one hand to the other so he could lick away the bits he'd missed.

Ann stared at him, blank-faced.

He paused with his tongue caught between the knuckles of his first and second fingers and stared back, confused.

It took several seconds for her to look away, and when she did, she fixed her gaze on the ice cream in her own hand with an expression that belonged on a war veteran.

"...Everything okay, Nee-san?"

She made an affirmative-ish noise in the back of her throat, then sighed heavily. Low enough that he guessed he wasn't supposed to hear it and sounding well and truly _miserable,_ she mumbled, "I'm the _worst."_

Well, that was... baffling.

"I think you're amazing," he offered.

Instead of cheering up, she practically _wilted,_ pressing her free hand over her face and saying, in a voice of abject regret, _"I know."_

(_**Arcana Lovers: Rank 5**_

_New Ability:_  
**[Casual Charm]**  
_Increase the chances of instantly winning over shadows upon entering negotiations._)

Akira blinked.

"...Hey, you know what?" she said weakly. "Let me walk you to the station."

She punctuated the statement by reaching out and dropping her ice cream cone in a trash bin as they passed, and Akira couldn't decide which was more alarming: the abrupt dismissal or _that._

"Nee-san—?"

"Not... hungry. C'mon, let's get moving."

* * *

Again, she seemed to relax as they walked, though she didn't speak until they were almost at the station.

"Sorry," she sighed, squeezing the straps of her purse and avoiding his eye. "I must be acting _so_ weird right now."

Which... he couldn't exactly deny. "A little."

She winced. Quietly (guiltily?), she said, "I've kinda... had a lot on my mind."

_That_ much was obvious. He was worried about her. "You can always talk to me."

"I know." The fact that his pulse only stumbled a _little_ at the grateful look she shot him was a testament to how worried he was.

Then she followed up by tugging him down to her level and pressing her lips to the side of his face, murmuring, "Hey. Stay safe, okay?" against his skin.

_I mean, it's a little late for that,_ he didn't say, mostly because his head was spinning and his chest hurt and he might _actually_ die of embarrassment if he outright swooned here, so opening his mouth was kind of low on his list of priorities. She'd have to make do with a dazed nod.

She did, and swayed back with a strange (...resigned?) smile. "Then I'll see you later."

He raised his hand in farewell, then stood there until he realized his train was about to leave without him.

* * *

**Rank 6**

* * *

**Ann:** Akira, we did it!  
**Ann:** I got the call!  
**Ann:** And it's all thanks to you.  
**Ann:** Come celebrate with me!  
**Akira:** Count me in.  
**Ann:** Yay!

* * *

It was a cat cafe this time.

Akira beheld the scribblings on blackboard by the door with something almost like nostalgia:

_Smitten Kitten Special Offer :__ Married couples get __two__ FREE drinks with FREE refills with the purchase of __two__ all-day passes, nyan~! _

"Oh, you beat me here!" Ann said, appearing beside him almost out of thin air. Her outfit today was much less... less, all layered cardigans and shrugs and _soft things_ in mottled grey and cream and black, her hair left loose in gentle waves, some equally soft pink on her lips and a warm welcome in her eyes.

Akira wondered if the cats would fully appreciate how very _huggable_ she looked.

She considered the board with him, then delved into the bag on her arm. "Here, I have something for you."

She then pulled out a jewelry box, plucked out its contents, and offered him the plain gold band.

He slipped it onto his left ring finger without comment.

(Even he could admit that this was getting a bit ridiculous, but _he_ certainly wasn't going to be the one to point it out.)

Ann wrapped both arms around his right and beamed up at him. "Come, dear, let's go see the kitties!"

* * *

Akira got tea, because Sojiro wasn't here to bore accusatory holes in the back of his head, and he missed it—the tea, not Sojiro's coffee bias—and made his way through three cups while she was still on her first.

Ann, apparently, had been on a quest for cocoa. Specifically cocoa with paw prints and cat faces, which she cooed over until the mug was cold, then reluctantly sipped around the pretty calico that had conquered her lap.

(The picture she painted—kissing the head of the curious kitten in her lap with dipped eyelashes and smooth cheeks, the feline face happily scrunched and its fur matching-contrasting Ann's many layers in softness and color, the affectionately protective slope of Ann's shoulders as she curled around her new friend—deserved poetry he didn't know how to write.

Maybe he should start practicing.)

"Should we take that one home, dear?" he asked, because there was a ring on his finger and a guy could dream.

She giggled, hugging the cat close and nuzzling its fur. "Maybe! She's a cutie pie, isn't she?"

(Akira distantly wondered how much Morgana would give to be there. He also wondered how much _he'd_ give to be there, and decided that it would probably be worth everything right up to giving up his humanity.)

"Well... I wish."

He waited.

"Truth is... this job's gonna take me _everywhere,"_ she said with a wince in her smile. "I can't make her spend her life on an airline. I don't think I'm even gonna get to come back to Tokyo."

...What?

"They showed me a list of possible locations and the closest one is Tai Pei." Her eyes were bright, _excited,_ and he was only half-hearing it. "Dubai and Rio de Janeiro and London and L.A.—I'm gonna get to see the whole world!" She punctuated the statement by lifting the calico high in the air and beaming up at it, then swallowed the grin back down to a smile and said, "But that means no pretty kitties for me." Kissing the cat's nose this time, she added, "Sorry, sweetie."

He didn't have any words to add to that. He didn't really have much of _anything_ to add to that, because it felt like someone had ripped the rug out from under his feet in the worst kind of way.

"It's gonna be a lot of parties, too. Like, _everywhere._ Gosh, I'm kinda nervous." She set the cat back in her lap and scritched the back of its neck with dark grey nails, crossing her ankles. "I mean, I've been to those kinds of parties before, but it sounds like this is like two or three per location." She giggled. "Guess I need to work on my small talk, huh?"

The thing that came out when he finally found something near his vocal chords was, "...You're leaving?"

(It was a little too raw, a little too open, a little too _young_ because suddenly he was eight and learning that Ann was going back to Finland and realizing he was going to be all alone again.)

She glanced over and jolted, her face falling. "Oh... shoot."

He broke the eye contact, throat and chest too tight to keep it up.

Her lips taking on a bemused, worried twist, she reached out to pinch his cheek, and he could barely feel the squeeze of her fingers, even when she wiggled her grip.

"C'mon, don't look like that, Aki-neko. It's not so bad." She leaned closer, cajoling and earnest. "Let's keep in contact this time."

He didn't reply, because what the _hell_ could he even say?

Almost to herself, she murmured, "...You know, I think this might be the first time I've ever seen you looking your age."

That didn't _help._

She let go, capturing the side of his face in an open-palmed caress instead.

"I'm sorry," she murmured, her eyes soft and sad and even more worried now, her hand pressing gently against his skin. "I didn't... I didn't think you'd take it this hard. I should have told you."

(...The very strangest thing about all this was that he couldn't say she _should_ have. It hurt like all _get out_ to find out now, but...)

(But.)

Her mouth took on a wry twist, a complicated emotion putting a wrinkle between her brows. "...You wouldn't have helped out if you'd known, would you."

He might not have.

That... wasn't a comfortable thought.

He pulled away from her hand and batted it, swallowing against the lump in his throat and coming out with a reasonably steady, "I helped. We're here to celebrate, right?"

It probably said something that the cat hadn't budged from Ann's lap through all that (a testament to Ann's huggable-ness or the cat's temperament or both), and was still right at hand for Ann to scoop it up and deposit it in Akira's lap instead.

"Cat therapy," she said firmly, a strange edge to her voice, then she stood. "I'll be right back."

He looked at the calico, and the calico looked back. It sniffed his chin, then gave him an approving headbutt, settling down to purr almost immediately.

He wondered if Sojiro or Morgana would mind a real cat in the house—partially so Akira could get started on his crazy cat loner collection early and partially because this was possibly the chillest cat he'd ever met, but mostly because any cat that understood Ann's huggable-ness was a cat after his own heart, and they should comfort each other in these trying times.

When Ann returned, it was with another cat—this one grey with a faint tabby pattern—which she set down next to the calico, and then left again, only to return several minutes later with another cat.

The process repeated a few more times, Ann somehow managing to locate the friendliest and calmest of the cafe's inhabitants to pile on top of him, until he had a moderate collection of purring new friends lazing around him.

It worked.

It was always awkward with Morgana—Akira wasn't in the habit of touching people, and Morgana was a 'people,' with or without the fur—but this... this was nice. He'd sort of forgotten what animals (_real_ animals) were like; simple and affectionate and wise and, in this case, _soft._ The rumbling helped too. Comforting.

Ann finishing it off by slumping against his side and pulling yet another cat close was less comforting, but he wasn't going to be the one to tell her to move.

"What about you, dear?" she said, reaching over to wiggle a single finger behind one of the calico's ears. "Do _you_ want to take her home?"

"Maow," said the calico.

"Hm," Akira replied.

The calico seemed satisfied with this answer, fixing him with a languid stare and twitching the tip of its tail, then shaking out its ears.

"...I'm thinking about it," he said in the end, because 'soft' and 'purring' and 'cat therapy' were all much more effective than he'd expected. It was probably a pipe dream (Morgana could live in a cafe because he was sentient; an actual cat would doubtlessly be much less careful with its shedding), but he could still _think_ about it.

Her smile was achingly relieved.

Behind her, he spotted one of the waitresses coming over to check on them, and so he leaned in to murmur, "She would make a wonderful addition to our family, don't you think, love?" in Ann's ear.

She froze, her breath stilling and expression fixing, her finger stopping dead on the cat's head.

...Mmmmaybe that had been a little too far.

"How are you two doing over here?"

Ann jumped. "Ah— _eh._ Huh?"

The waitress gave the two of them a politely glowing smile. "You two are quite popular! Would you like refills?"

Still frozen, Ann didn't respond for one, two, three seconds, so Akira nodded at the waitress in her stead.

She collected their mugs, then dipped in a bow and took them back to the counter with her.

The instant she was gone, Ann shuffled the cats off her lap and stood in that abrupt way that was starting to get... _familiar._

"You know what?" she said squeakily, blushing to the roots of her hair. "I think I saw them selling those kitty headbands back over there. They were super cute, so I'm— I'm gonna go check them out."

Akira didn't respond—not because he didn't want him to, but because she was gone before he could.

(He was starting to suspect that there was a pattern to those reactions; a pattern he didn't _want_ to suspect, because she was _leaving._ Again. And any _reasons_ she might have for acting like that wouldn't matter soon.

Best to just... not think about it. At all. Not if he could help it.

...Not even about the way she'd blushed, like... like...

Nope. That was just his imagination. Embarrassment, if anything; those lines had been pretty cringe-worthy, right? Right.)

"Maow," said the calico, interrupting that line of thought.

"Hm," he replied.

The calico purred.

...Akira wondered just how hard he have to try to convince Sojiro to agree to take this one back to his house so it wouldn't mess up the cafe.

He'd moved on from wondering to mindlessly petting by the time Ann came back, announcing her presence by pushing a headband down on top of his head.

"There we go," she laughed, hopping backwards onto the back of the couch, swinging her legs over the hurdle, and sliding down onto the cushions with a bouncy _fwoomph,_ heedless of the two felines who'd taken offense at the abrupt entry and scampered away. "My cute little Aki-neko is a neko once more."

He removed his glasses, which had been knocked askew by the rigorous application of cat ears, and rubbed his eyes, adjusting the new accessory to a position that clamped his skull in a slightly more comfortable place.

"You fit right in now!" Then, to the waitress who arrived with their beverages, "Thank you very much."

The waitress bowed and took her leave, and Ann half-glanced at him and went, "Ah, hey!" and reached over to adjust the headband back. "It's all crooked. Did you forget how these worked? You used to... love..."

He blinked—her face had entirely blanked as she trailed off, eyes intent and lips parted.

(Embarrassment. That was definitely embarrassment, because the alternative to embarrassment was—)

Mechanically, she let go of the headband, moving back in a too-smooth motion and breathing a half-laugh. "M-Maybe you grew out of them, huh..."

His throat was all stopped up. It took him a couple of tries to come out with a soft, "Mm."

"You'll always be Aki-neko in my heart, though, don't worry," she confided with an off-kilter smile. Then she seemed to continue the thought down somewhere less cheerful, because after a moment, she sighed and slumped into the couch, staring blankly at the cats that remained. "Kitties get lonely though, huh..." She tilted her head, achingly sad this time. "You've made friends in Tokyo, right? Tell me about them?"

So he did—about Ryuji and Shiho and Yusuke and Eiko and Mishima—and that... that helped too.

Enough that he could dig his fingers into the calico's fur and finally screw up the courage to ask, "So... when are you leaving?"

Her giggle (coaxed out with a story about Yusuke and Shiho and art) trailed off, but she wasn't quite as down as before either. "I'm not sure just yet. There's an event coming up and I'm gonna sort out the details with the agent there. I'm... pretty excited, I can't lie."

Akira personally kind of hoped the event went up in flames, but at least one of them was happy.

"Hey..." She breathed in like she was steeling herself, and Akira resigned himself to a _yes, ma'am._ "Before I go, let's hit up Destinyland." She gave him her best charming smile, like she needed to convince him or something. "I've been wanting to go with you for_ever,_ and this might be our last chance. C'mon, it'll be fun!"

...Ann wasn't in the habit of pulling her punches, was she.

He stared into the calico's green eyes for a long moment, teeth clenched against the urge to turn her down out of petty spite, getting up and _leaving_ because this cut to the quick and hers was the last face he wanted to see right now, at _all,_ anymore—

He inhaled through painfully tight airways, counted to three, and exhaled again to a count of five.

"...Count me in."

She threw her arm around his neck and pulled him over sideways for a quick kiss on the cheek... and for the first time _ever,_ he didn't want it.

"This is gonna be the _best,"_ she promised, beaming, and he was glad that his normal expression was so customary that he wasn't expected to smile back.

* * *

(_**Arcana Lovers: Rank 6**_

_New Ability:_  
**[Animal Attraction]**  
_Occasionally receive bonus points during confidant interactions._)

* * *

**Rank 7**

* * *

**Ann:** Hey... I know this is kinda sudden, but are you free right now? Like, right right now?  
**Ann:** ...I could really use a friend.  
**Akira:** I'll be right there.  
**Ann:** Thank you.

* * *

It was unusual for her to text him in the evening.

He wasn't sure what to expect from this beyond 'something went wrong and Ann's in trouble,' so finding her sitting on a bench a few buildings down from a ritzy party was probably about as surprising as anything else would have been.

She wasn't looking at him, but at the bag in her lap, wearing an equally ritzy dress that was painfully out of place against the plain, serviceable backdrop.

She greeted him with a tired smile. "Hey. Thanks for coming out here on such short notice."

He hummed, a strange combination of emotions rising at the sight. "Of course."

She shook out the skirt of her dress as she stood, sheepishly admitting, "I don't have a ride, and I figured it wouldn't be a great idea to walk alone like this."

"...That's wise." Everything about her screamed 'money', from the glittery stones in her hair reflecting the street lamp's light to the leather of her sky high heels. Worst come to worst, she could always stab someone with one of those shoes, but looking like that, the 'worst' was probably guaranteed, depending on how far she needed to go.

"Yeah..." she sighed, then pushed a thumb to the dip above the bridge of her nose. She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, almost shy. "...Do you..."

He gave her his full attention.

In a voice so small it was almost alarming, she asked, "Do you think we could stop for coffee?"

He squeezed his hands into fists in his pockets and nodded.

"Mm..." Her eyelashes dipped, quietly grateful. "Thanks."

* * *

In the light spilling out of the little street corner cafe down the road, 'ritzy' revealed itself to be 'drop dead gorgeous.'

Not even 'sexy,' just elegance and _artistry,_ achingly immaculate beauty from head to toe, from the framing of her liquid blue eyes to the grace of her very toes. She looked like something not quite human, just a little too lovely to fit in on this side of the veil. Breathtaking. _Untouchable._

And being around her like this, when she was so ethereal and so far away, knowing she was about to leave for _real_—that just _hurt._

"I'm gonna rest my feet for a minute—these shoes are killer," she said, too subdued and too _tired._ Ann wasn't supposed to be tired. Not like this.

"Mm." And the very worst part was that he didn't know how to help. He shucked his jacket, thinking he could give it to her to protect her dress from the rougher edges of the cast-iron chair, at least.

She accepted it with dim eyes and a half-smile, but chose the wide edge of the low wall instead, settling herself on the seat and pulling the jacket around her shoulders, disregarding the rough cement under her backside. Then she dropped her forehead into her palm and exhaled a sigh. "Ah... we should probably buy something, huh."

He could do that for her too, drifting over to the door and into the empty cafe.

* * *

The boy at the cash register greeted him with a partial bow and the usual pleasantries—only to follow up with, "We're having a couples' deal this week. Would you and your girlfriend be interested?"

Akira faltered in the middle of pulling out his wallet, stomach flipping over as a frisson of pain bloomed in his chest. He opened his mouth to give the cashier a simple, _no, thank you,_ and ended up saying, "She's... not my girlfriend."

Somehow, the con was a lot less fun without Ann around to enjoy the joke.

The cashier looked faintly embarrassed to have gotten it wrong, but it barely registered.

(Ann looked like... like... _that,_ and he didn't know what was wrong or what he could _do._ There was an anxious suspicion lurking around in the back of his head that maybe...

Maybe he couldn't do _anything._

_Dammit._)

He could make sure they didn't offend the establishment, at least.

"Could I get..."

* * *

Walking back with two paper cups of freshly brewed coffee, he found Ann dropping her red-bottomed heels onto the wall beside her. Most of her jewelry had been removed, and a stack of pins and bejeweled wires rested beside her, accompanied by the clip that had been holding her hair up, all her carefully preserved curls in disarray.

He was about halfway to her when she bent down, lifted the hem of her skirt, and started sliding off her stockings, heedless of the fact that she was in a public space.

Sure, he was the only one around, but he was still _around._

The jolt hadn't fully faded from his stomach be the time she glanced up, and that smile of hers was about as lethal as it always was, even more so for how _open_ it was now.

(And she was leaving, leaving, _leaving_—)

"Oh!" She accepted the cup and wrapped her hands around it, slumping over it and breathing it in. Shyer, softer, looking far too _small,_ dammit, _Ann wasn't supposed to look like that_—"You didn't have to do that."

_Yeah, I did._

Especially with how much comfort she seemed to be drawing from it.

He didn't generally like initiating physical contact with people, but this was _Ann_ and she was _sad_ and this starting to make his very _bones_ itch with the need to hug her, or kiss her, or something. _Anything_ to make that sad fade away.

He took a seat next to her instead, his own cup in hand. "Did something happen?"

She hummed absently, watching the steam rise against the night shroud over the city. "...You could say that."

He waited.

She glanced at him sideways, mouth set in a wry slant like she intended to put him off, but whatever she found in his face had it melting away. Turning around and swinging her legs over the other side of the wall, ignoring the crackle of her dress as it snagged on the cement, she said, "It turns out... the job comes with a few... conditions."

Something about the way she said the last word had his skin crawling.

"You know those parties I mentioned?" She curled around the cup again, half of her curls spilling into the space behind the collar of his jacket. "Apparently their models are required to... _entertain_ there. You know, look pretty while hanging off some rich guy's arm and making small talk..."

...Ah.

She listed to the side, away from him. "It's not... _such_ a bad deal," she said, almost like she was trying to convince herself. "It's not like you're forced to leave with anyone you don't want to. And my whole _job_ basically boils down to looking pretty and making small talk anyway. It doesn't... _really_ matter if I gotta dance with a few strangers every now and then, right?"

Akira thought about Eiko's entire... _mess,_ and couldn't bring himself to say a thing.

"And this is a chance of a _lifetime,"_ she sighed, seeming farther away than ever as she stared at the stars like she was trying to see beyond them. "I don't think I'm ever gonna get another shot like _this_ unless Prada decides to swing by and pick me up. I said I was gonna be the best and here's my ride."

He stared into the steam rising from his own cup. Of all people, why did she have to talk to _him_ about this?

(Because he asked, and he was here, and goddammit, she _needed_ him.)

She didn't continue, just sighed and blew at the hole in the lid, the whistling air punctuating the stillness.

When it seemed that she intended to leave it there, he finally had to ask, "So... why did you call me?"

A siren wailing in the distance came and went before she admitted, "I... asked the agent to give me some time to think about it."

"Isn't it just 'dancing with a few strangers'?" he said, maybe a little sardonic, maybe a little bitter, definitely kicking himself for giving her _any_ reason to keep considering it.

Again, she chewed on her answer for a while before speaking, but this time, she seemed to shrink into herself as the silence went on.

"They... they had me do a trial run tonight, and..." she trailed off, and then, strained and tiny and terrifyingly _young,_ mumbled, "It was gross."

Oh.

"They want statues. Sex dolls. They hear 'model', and..." Wrapping her arms around herself, she shivered and exhaled a self-depreciating laugh with a ragged edge. "It's not that I didn't know that. Lots of people think that. Even—... even people at the parties I go to normally th-think that. They just... wanted me to ignore it. Wanted me to-to _play into_ it. To pretend I'm some... _bimbo gold-digger_ who couldn't hold an intelligent conversation to save her life. So I did. And they ate it up. And they want me to do it again next week."

Her voice cracked on the last few words, and Akira briefly wondered how much the team would hate him if he insisted on taking down every asshole event attendee there the next time they went to Mementos, then decided that it didn't really matter. It'd be cathartic to do it on his own anyway.

Ann sniffled, her mouth pulling sideways like she was about to cry. "...I want a shower."

_Dammit._

As appealing as the thought of beating up everyone who'd ever hurt her was, it wouldn't help _here_ and he had no idea what to _do._

Then one tear spilled down her cheek, then another, her lower lip catching between her teeth and her beautiful face crumpling, and Akira's heart just up and stopped.

He didn't realize he'd reached for her until her face hit his shoulder, the fabric of his jacket folding and scrunching under his palms, over her back, her whole body delicate and soft and... _small_ in his arms.

(He was _bigger_ than her now. That was a strange thought.

But not a bad one. It made it easier to cover her up and pretend that was enough to protect her from the world.)

Damp eyelashes fluttered against his neck as she stiffened in surprise, then, slowly, the surprise melted away, her shoulders slumping as she tentatively rested her hands below his shoulder blades.

"I'm here," was all he had to offer, and he _hated_ it.

And yet somehow, it seemed to be enough.

She pushed her face closer and nearly dove into the hug, wrapping her arms around him as far as they would go and sinking into his hold, a tiny sob in her throat.

It didn't turn into outright bawling, but he almost wished it had. The fragile tremors and hitching breaths accompanying the tears soaking his shirt felt like a rusty knife setting up shop in his chest.

Whywhywhy couldn't he _do_ anything?

"I... Why am I crying?" was what Ann was wondering, mouthing the words into his shoulder. She laughed shakily. "Nothing even _happened."_ Her voice cracked on the last word, and he involuntarily curled his fingers in the jacket. "They just... talked down to me. Ignored me a-a little. Made a couple of comments about my chest. That's... I'm used to that. I _should_ be used to that. God knows I get it enough." The wet patch on his shoulder grew. "Why is this any different?"

It was _different_ because he was here sitting _useless_ instead of figuring out how he could _exact righteous justice_ on all of their asses, but Ann was clinging to him like he was the only thing keeping her afloat, and he couldn't bring himself to move.

"I mean... it's just a job, right?" Another shuddering laugh, this one steadier than the last. "I'm getting... getting _paid_ for this, too." Her voice thick with mockery, she mumbled, "Getting paid to _stand around_ and pretend to be stupid for a few hours. That's... not so bad... is it?"

"It sounds pretty bad to me," he said, because he could feel her talking herself back into it, and it made him _sick._

She inhaled, deep and long, then blew it out on a sigh that was _almost_ composed and relaxed into the embrace, loosening her grip in favor of melting closer. "Mm."

They stayed like that for a while longer in silence, Ann slowly regaining her equilibrium and Akira soaking in the contact as long as he could, then Ann shook her head and pulled away. "Sorry... sorry."

"It's fine," he mumbled back, more helpless than ever.

Pulling her legs over the wall again, she stood barefoot on the cement patio and stretched the cricks out of her back, arms locked high above her head, huffing a breath and then glancing over her shoulder. She spied his shirt and went, "Oh, shoot."

He plucked at it and caught sight of lipstick smudges on the lower edge of the wet patch and eye shadow shimmer on the upper edge. He wondered absently how difficult it would be to scrub out.

She dabbed a fingertip against her cheek, then checked her fingers and muttered, "Ugh, hang on," stuffing her things into her bag—heels included. "I'll be right back."

He watched her walk into the cafe barefoot and tried not to think too much about how his jacket fit her.

* * *

In the ensuing silence, Akira came to a few conclusions. The first was that it wasn't feasible to _actually_ beat up change the hearts of everyone at that event. The second was that anything that made her cry like _that_ deserved to die in a fire. The third was that committing arson was probably a bad idea.

It took her about ten minutes to get back, the mess cleaned up and wrangled into a state that looked almost intentional, a pair of cheap tennis shoes and socks procured from somewhere, and her normal cheer about half restored.

He still had no idea what to do.

For now, all he could do was walk her back to apartment—a high-rise complex in one of the nicer parts of town.

He found his tongue while she was fishing around in her purse for her keys.

"They don't deserve you."

The clinking died away as she paused in her search, and, sensing her gaze, he looked up.

Utterly nonplussed, she echoed, "'Don't deserve me'?"

That was a level of disbelief he _really_ didn't want to hear from someone who'd just cried herself out of his shoulder.

(What would happen next time, he wondered. What would happen the next time they asked her to pretend she was anyone but who she was and she didn't have a shoulder to cry on.

How many times could she go through that before that glowing, vibrant, irrepressible smile of hers started to look as empty as Shiho's. As strained as Kawakami's. As chilly as Takemi's.

He regretted helping her get this job. Deeply, truly, honestly regretted it. He could say that for sure now.)

"Being the face of a brand _this_ big is nothing to sneeze at, you know," she said, so mildly bemused at the objection that he wanted to shake her. "Getting picked is a huge honor."

"It's not you they want." There was bile rising in the back of his throat, flickering memories of how bad Eiko had gotten before they managed to get her out of that trap. The trap of getting _picked._

"I'm the one who got the call," she reminded him with an almost-laugh, like he could _forget._

"They want your face." He stuffed his hands further into his pockets and forced himself to meet her eye. "They couldn't care less about the rest of you."

(After all, who cared about robots, portraits, walking ATM machines? Who cared about scapegoats and rejects? Who cared about _'party favors'?_)

Her smile had gone blank, and she blinked as she pointed out, "I'm a model. My face is _kind of_ the important part here."

"No, it's not." A bitter flash of anger flared to life in his chest and died as quick as it came, smothered under equally bitter defeat. Why was she being such an _idiot_ about this? _"You're_ the important part here."

"...Akira?"

"They'll chew you up and spit you out," he snapped, almost without intending to. It was starting to hurt to look at her—hurt to see how surprised she was that he would argue with her over this. He couldn't force himself to maintain staring contest, looking away and only feeling marginally less vulnerable. "I don't... want you to go."

At some point during that painful mess of emotion, Ann had dropped her bag and moved to stand in front of him, the toes of her tennis shoes coming to a stop startlingly close to his.

Her expression was inscrutable when he brought himself to look her in the face again.

"...Hey," she said, almost... _hopelessly,_ raw and open. "What happened to you?"

Unjust imprisonment, probation in a city far from home, a parade of victims and a taste of vigilantism—you know, the usual.

(The way Shiho's hands shook as she took a broken table leg to every available fixture in Kamoshida's library. The helpless horror on Yusuke's face as Madarame confessed to watching an innocent woman's life bleed out before him. The bruises on Eiko's arms when she finally planted her feet, ripped off her mask, and declared herself _Hime-sama._ The heart-rending _scream_ Shinya let out as a cognitive version of his mother was cut down before his eyes...)

(Ann hadn't broken yet, and he'd give just about anything to keep it that way.)

"Stay," he said, _hating_ the way his voice cracked over the word and finding himself avoiding her eye once again. "...Please."

Her hand raised like she was going to reach for him, then stopped midair, the light of the walkway washing out her skin and glinting off the bangles she hadn't taken off.

It stayed there for long enough that he looked up to make sure he hadn't accidentally sidestepped into the Metaverse again, and found her even closer than before, just... staring at him, lips parted, expression distant and inscrutable.

"...Nee-san?"

Akira was treated to the strange experience of _seeing_ the blood drain from someone's face.

"Yes!" she blurted, more in panic than agreement. "I-I mean no? I mean..."

He tilted his head and she cut herself off, now staring sightlessly at his mouth—whatever was going through her head, her horror grew by the second.

Heartbeats ticked by, one after the other, then she diverted her eyes with a raspy breath that might generously be categorized as a laugh. "I... I need to think about it."

Akira's stomach dropped out.

He opened his mouth to say something, _anything,_ but she backed up two stumbling steps, then turned around to pick up her bag.

"Sorry," she said thickly, then dug for her keys, adding, "Thank you for walking with me," as she struggled to get them into the lock.

"Nee-san—?"

It was probably only the quality of the door that kept it from sustaining damage when she forced it open. Turning her face so he could see it but not looking at him at all, she said, "G-get home safe, okay?" and then snapped the door shut almost as roughly as she'd opened it.

"Oh-kay...?" he said to the whitewashed wood, blinking as the slam rang in his ears.

The long walkway was empty and cold in the wake of her, the late night breeze nipping at his bare arms and the city streets quiet below. None of the neighbors had been disturbed by the noise, but that wasn't surprising—the doors were set far apart, belying the size of the rooms behind them.

There wasn't so much as a crack in the cement to help him figure out _what the hell just happened._

He stayed long enough to make sure that she wasn't going to come back out (she still had his jacket; he could ask her if she came to give it back), then gave up and went home.

* * *

(_**Rank up! Arcana Lovers: Rank 7**_)

* * *

His jacket arrived two days later in the mail, dry-cleaned with a note attached, thanking him for the loan and containing no answers whatsoever.

He _still_ had no idea what that was all about.

* * *

**Rank 8**

* * *

**Ann:** Suddenly, a free afternoon appears!  
**Ann:** Wanna hang out?  
_Akira is typing..._

_Akira is typing..._

**Akira:** I'd love to.  
**Ann:** Yay!

* * *

It had been two weeks of absolute radio silence before she contacted him again, and when he arrived at their meeting place, she just looked _exhausted_ under her forced cheer—the kind of exhausted that said there were dark circles around her eyes under all that makeup.

At a loss, he'd pushed down all the things he wanted to say to her and exchanged them for, _So, you wanted to go to Destinyland, right?_

The distraction wasn't going over too badly. Ann spent about ten seconds in silent contemplation of the park map with a gleam growing in her eye, then took them on the most efficient route through every _single_ thrill ride in the park.

He was glad he hadn't eaten anything before they came.

After they'd made a full circuit, she seemed refreshed—enough that her exhaustion had flipped right over into breezily near-mania as she reached out, slipped her hand into the crook of his arm, and said, "Okay! Now we check out the rest of the park. Come on!"

* * *

Something was _up,_ though. More than the stress, more than the avoidance, more than the utterly ineffectual attempts to mask the heart on her sleeve.

She was being... clingy. Borderline _flirty_ the way she was when they were trying to convince people they were dating. Completely (almost completely) unself-conscious in a way that was about as demoralizing as it was _lethal._

He just didn't know what to make of it.

(And she kept dragging him back into the bubble of it—the bubble where there was no one but them and the whole world faded away because nothing else mattered—little stutters in time where he forgot that he was supposed to make her stay somehow some_way,_ and the little stutters of panic every time the bubble flickered.)

"Okay," she said on the monorail, her whole _side_ plastered as close to him as she could manage. She held the map out in front of them, like he could glean _anything_ from it when she was so _close,_ soft and warm and sweet-smelling and murmuring low in his ear and— "We totally need to hit up the haunted house and the Buxx Darkyear ride. And we need to watch the parade, which happens at... six. Oh! and we _totally_ need to check out the shops after; I _need_ one of those giant lollipops."

He was still in the process of catching up with that when she glanced out the window, face lighting up.

"Hey! Check out the view of the castle from here!"

And he would have, he really _would,_ but she'd planted her hand on his thigh so she could look around him, her nails scraping the inner seam, and that was way too close to... certain parts of his anatomy. Way, way, _way too close._

He turned his face towards the window for the sake of appearances, her hand hot as a brand and his pulse throbbing in his mouth.

"That's where we need to end up," she said as she dropped back into her seat with a distracting little bounce, fingers thoughtlessly trailing away. "C'mon, help me figure out a route."

Unsurprisingly, his 'help' amounted to making agreeable noises whenever her voice took on the lilt of a question, but she seemed satisfied with that.

* * *

In his defense, there were a few problems getting in the way of his thought process.

Problem one: the day was _hot,_ pushing unseasonably high temperatures, the muggy air slowing his synapses and dragging him as far into lethargy as he could manage while being dragged from one end of Destinyland to the other.

Problem two: his jacket was black and long because he'd expected it to be cooler than this, and it definitely wasn't helping.

Problem three: Ann was mind-blowingly hot in general, but especially in jeans that tight and a shirt as pale and loose and gauzy as that one.

(It kept flattening against her figure, brief glimpses at the curve of her breast and the dip of her waist and the line of her spine that he _had_ to catch or they'd be gone, and it was pretty damn hard to keep a train of thought going through sights like that.)

He could only do something about one of those problems, so he took a moment to remove his jacket once they were back in the sun, and Ann tapped her pursed lips and studied at his waist as he did so.

"You know, I've been thinking this for a while, but... you're pretty fit, aren't you?" she said, then jabbed his abdomen.

He suppressed a yelp, but didn't catch the flinch, jerking back a foot or so in defense.

She grabbed his shoulder instead, fingers squeezing the round of it just hard enough to hurt. "How'd you built this kind of muscle?"

A flicker of panic sharpened the heat in his gut. Saying, _By running around people's subconsciouses to steal their twisted desires,_ was out of the question, but...

What else _could_ he say?

"I... work out when I'm bored," he said after a too-long pause.

It was the lamest excuse he'd come up with in a _long_ time.

Her face stilled for a second, then she forced it away with a strained laugh, letting go of him. (...Oh?) "Got a lot of energy to burn, huh?" Then she shot him a sly grin that looked marginally more natural. "You gotta tell me your workout structure—you know, for reference."

"You could always come and watch," he offered on impulse, equally sly as he chased that crack in her composure.

"I'll pass!" she said so immediately that she almost stepped on the end of his sentence, her smile bright and smooth and relaxed once again. "Just text me the sets, yeah?"

Akira tried not to sulk.

"But later." She hooked her arm into the crook of his without so much as a falter, squinting into the distance. "C'mon, Buxx Darkyear awaits!"

* * *

It took them another hour to get to the entrance (there were candy stalls _and_ thrill rides on the way; he passed on the first for the sake of surviving the second, but Ann seemed to have a stomach made of steel), but they made it eventually.

'Buxx Darkyear' was a ride where you sat in a boat on a track and tried to shoot targets with plastic toy guns, racking up a score based on your performance. Trigger-sensitivity and feel of the gun aside, Akira had enough practice hitting moving objects that he came in first by a wide margin.

Ann, on the other hand, came in _last_ by a wide margin, and not for lack of trying.

He watched her scowl at the results screen and failed to fully squash his amusement. (She was _adorable,_ dammit.) "...Want to try again?"

She nodded, slow and determined. "I'm gonna show those aliens who's boss. They won't know what hit them."

* * *

The second round, unsurprisingly, went no differently from the first.

Ann glared at the results screen with an even deeper scowl.

"Again?" Akira guessed, mouth twitching.

"Say what," she said as she straightened and turned towards the exit like a woman on a mission, "forget the sets. Show me how to _aim."_

* * *

So he did—giving her a crash course on how to hold the gun and how to line up a shot while they were still in the light of the boarding deck—and while she improved vastly in those two minutes, she was still lagging far behind when they came to the lull in the middle of the ride.

She glanced between their scores and groaned under her breath. "I'm kinda hopeless, huh?"

He corrected her grip. "No, just inexperienced. Here."

Her next attempt at a shot had her grip shifting again, and he found himself leaning in to fix it again, the smell of her perfume and skin in his nose and her hair against his cheek, body heat painting a broad, tingling stripe down his front, the whole experience of her painfully reminding him of how _well_ she fit in his arms now.

He still had no idea how to keep her there.

The pain lacing that thought kept the moment suspended, the chatter of the other passengers and damp air very loud and very far away as he breathed her in, felt the faintest hint of her pulse through her back—and then the targets started popping up again and he remembered that he was supposed to help her aim.

Right. That. He was on that.

* * *

"The show's over," he murmured to himself, half ironic, as he watched the scripted fall of the 'final boss'.

Ann shivered.

...Which was when he realized he'd forgotten to pull away after the first few shots and instead had pretty much taken over for her the whole way through the second half, her hands limp under his and her back still pressed against his chest.

Oops.

He drew away as they pulled back up to the boarding deck, glancing at their scores—her side had a slight lead on his this time—and, unsure if he was supposed to apologize for taking over when she'd only wanted a lesson, just said, "...Like that."

"Uh... huh..." she said weakly.

He blinked, that reaction tugging at the back of his brain, but... no, right? "Want to try one more time?"

She slumped over her side, face resting on the door of the car as they jerked to a halt. "I'm... I'm good."

The stark lighting of the deck revealed that her ears and the back of her neck were a dark pink, and his stomach flipped.

"...Are you okay?"

"Uh-huh," she said again, even weaker than before, then pried herself up for the sake of getting off the ride, seemingly either not noticing or not caring about the scarlet flush on her face.

"You look a little..." They passed the scoreboard without glance—her out of distraction and him out of worry. Her steps were _wobbling._ "Do you... need anything?"

"A bucket of ice water," she groaned quietly, scrubbing her face and narrowly avoiding tripping over a crack.

_That_ wasn't what he'd expected.

"...A what?"

"Nothing." The smile she gave him was sheepish, cheeks still flushed. "We should grab a bite! We've still got time before the parade."

She didn't grab onto him this time, avoiding his eye entirely as she led the way off the ride, and Akira...

Akira had no idea how to read it.

* * *

They stopped by the log ride first, because that was the closest thing they could manage to a 'bucket of ice water'.

It turned out to be much closer to one than it was supposed to be—a faulty spigot got Ann absolutely _soaked_ right before the end of the ride.

He may have previously noted that her top was pale and gauzy. He probably had not noted that the bra underneath it was red lace, because he hadn't known it until Ann was stepping onto the landing platform and making faces as she sluiced off the worst of it and one of the operators scurried for a towel.

He spent a solid five seconds trying to remember how his mouth worked so he could let her know about the wardrobe failure, largely failed, and got caught staring instead.

Ann followed his gaze, looking only mildly puzzled as she came to her own chest. Pinching the fabric and pulling it away from her skin (not _nearly_ far enough for his sanity), she studied it with unfocused eyes, impassive as she lost herself in thought.

Whatever conclusion she came to had the corner of her mouth ticking up in an odd smile—one that transformed into mischief when she met his eyes again. Her only reaction to the fact that he was _still staring_ was to stick her tongue out with a knowing wink.

He decided that he'd try to parse the meaning of _that_... later. Once his brain felt a little less broken and he could feel his knees again.

(He could _really_ go for a bucket of ice water right about now.)

* * *

The 'bite' ended up being more sweets, because it was Ann—and because it was Ann, she had no compulsions about feeding him bits of her share by hand, the faintest brush of hot fingertips against lips that weren't that sensitive the last time he checked, he _swore._

The detour afterwards through a few of the rides on the way to the parade route was his idea, though.

(It was hitting him again and again through the distraction that maybe... maybe this was his last chance. And maybe if he could just drag this out a little longer, distract _her_ a little more, maybe she's just forget about the job and her plans and the fame it offered her, maybe she'd forget about leaving—maybe she'd stay without him needing to say a damn thing.)

Said detour left them somewhere high above the route, catching the parade right in the middle of its run from a forgotten ledge on an unused path. It was a welcome respite from the crowds, peaceful and isolated.

Peaceful, isolated, and _intimate._

Maybe he shouldn't have insisted on taking that left out of the last exit. It had looked quiet, and at this point he was a little desperate for quiet—but maybe... not this quiet.

There was too much space to think up here.

(Too much space to think about how he now had the perfect name for all those little reactions he'd been getting lately, and it wasn't 'embarrassment.'

But he couldn't think it, because it _had_ to be embarrassment, because she might be (was) leaving. The idea that it might be... something _else_ right when it might be (was) the end of the road for them was too much to bear.)

Ann didn't seem to have nearly as many complicated feelings as he did, wandering up to the handrail and watching the parade with a faint smile. "It's nice up here, isn't it."

He hummed as he leaned backwards against the rail, trying and failing to watch the parade more than he watched her.

She sighed into the lull, her smile dimming as the parade rolled by.

Maybe she did have complicated feelings to sort though.

He hesitated, then half out of curiosity and half for the sake of distracting himself from all the overthought inevitabilities floating around in his head, asked, "Why are you free today? Don't you usually work on Thursdays?"

She slouched in defeat. "I got kicked out of my shoot."

He blinked. "You what?"

"Got kicked out." The twist of her lips was wry. "It was one of Mika's tricks, but my own fault I fell for it." She snorted. "It's been a _long_ time since she's gotten me like this."

"...Didn't you two have an agreement?"

"I think I pissed her off," she admitted, slouching a little more. "I went to her for advice on whether or not I should take the job..." Frowning, she studied the balloon floating across the track. "Come to think of it, maybe going to her wasn't the best idea."

"You don't say."

(Hopefully that was dry enough to cover up the way his stomach _lurched_ at the reminder that this wasn't set in stone yet.

How. How could he make her _stay._)

She tugged on a lock of her hair with a slight wince. "To be fair, the last I heard was that she impressed them so much that they were thinking of hiring us both. I thought she'd give me a straight answer since her position isn't at stake."

He didn't really know enough about Mika to say for sure, but she didn't seem to him like the type to suffer rivals under any circumstance.

"And, you know?" Ann leaned back and stared at the sky with distant eyes, puzzled and thoughtful. "I think she did."

"So... what did she say?" he prompted when she didn't seem inclined to go on.

"Um..." She jutted her lower lip as she thought, rattling off, "I'm an idiot, she hopes I break out from all the junk food, I'm too naive for the business, if I'm going to be this unprofessional then I should go run back to America and live in a McRonalds..." Her brow knitted in a flicker of realization. "But... I've never lived in America, much less a McRonalds..."

...Yeah, that sounded about right. "That's 'giving you a straight answer,' huh?"

A snicker broke her melancholy. "I think she was mad that I was eating cookies for brunch."

That was such an _Ann_ thing to do that Akira had to bite the corner of his mouth to keep his expression in check. Kissing her now would probably only push her away.

(Stay, stay, stay, stay—)

"But she also said..." The sentence died away, her eyes narrowing, then she shook away whatever thought she'd had about whatever else Mika had said. "No, never mind."

Akira didn't want to 'never mind' _anything_ about Ann right now. Any and every last scrap of her he could get—

She let go of the railing and flashed a stilted smile in his direction. "Let's keep moving."

He bit his tongue, then looked down over the edge of their perch. "...The parade?" It was still going, though how much of it there was left, he didn't know.

"We wanna beat the crowds, don't we?" she said, turning away as she started down the stairs, and, at a loss, Akira found himself following once more.

* * *

They beat the crowds, but Akira barely noticed.

Ann had spent the whole trip back nearly plastered to his side again, and now he was starting to realize that she was leaning into him for comfort. That she'd been doing that this whole trip.

She looked _lost_ whenever the silence stretched on to long, and he wasn't sure what to do about it.

The gates approached far too soon, a signal to the end of all this, and he wasn't sure what to do about _that,_ either. Her fingers were tangled tight in his and she refused to be distracted by the sights along the way—no more delays, no more putting off the inevitable, and he _still didn't know how to convince her to stay._

He was feeling more than a little lost himself.

"Hey!" someone spoke up behind them. Turning around revealed a cheerful staff member holding a camera. "You two have fun?"

Ann's pensive air was hastily stuffed under model-worthy enthusiasm. "You know it!"

The staff member's smile melted into something more open and real in the face of it. She held up her camera. "How about a picture to commemorate your date at Destinyland?"

A corner of Akira's mind pointed out that getting a picture taken would mean another detour to get it printed and picked up, another five, ten, twenty minutes together—

Ann had stilled, her fingers twitching so minutely he barely felt it even when they were interlocked with his. A glance at her face revealed that it had gone blank, frozen.

It wasn't followed by panic this time. It melted into a serene and wry sort of smile, and then she leaned over until he was bearing a solid portion of her weight and looked up at him through her eyelashes.

"What do you think, darling?"

He _thought_ that it was unfair of her to keep putting herself within kissing range. "Sounds good, _sweetheart."_

She giggled, which had more or less been his intention, and gave the staff member a peace sign.

The following series of shutter clicks was familiar, though the poses here were much sillier than the ones used when they were trying to sell clothing, and the smile on the staff member's face was more amused than professional.

"You two are cute," she told them with a laugh as she handed over the paper with the codes for the pictures taken.

Ann _lit up,_ her eyes gleaming in unholy glee. "See?" she demanded, pointing a finger at his nose. "I told you! You _are_ cute!"

"She said the _both_ of us were cute..."

Ann wasn't listening. She moved on to poking his cheek, absolutely _delighted._ "Who's the _cutest_ boy in the whole wide world?"

Akira endured the poking but refused to dignify that with a response. _Refused._

"C'moooon, say it!"

He tried to glare at her. He really, really _tried,_ but as it turned out, it was very difficult to glare at literal sunshine.

He endured that beaming grin for about two seconds before he conceded with a heavy sigh.

"...I am."

Ann just about _squeaked,_ pumping her fist. "Yes!"

Akira wasn't ashamed to admit that he melted. He wasn't made of stone. He wasn't even made of ice. He felt like he was made of _butter_ when she smiled like that.

Ann had that effect on people.

He only realized that 'melting' meant 'smiling' when he heard the shutter click once more.

Shit.

The staff member pulled out another piece of paper and scribbled another code on it, unrepentant as she said, "Sorry, couldn't resist. The shot was too good to pass up." Handing it over, she added, "Hey, anyone ever tell you you look like Ann Takamaki?"

Ann beamed as she accepted it. "All the time, actually! Thanks."

The staff member gave them a friendy nod and a wave of her fingers, dropping the camera back to her chest. "You two have a good evening now."

* * *

The last photograph was as painfully blatant as he'd suspected it would be.

And Ann... didn't even react, not beyond pausing over it for a second longer than the others, expression unchanged, then skipping over it in her subsequent browsings. He didn't know if that made it better or worse.

He didn't come up with anything to say in the fifteen minute process of getting the picture printed. He wasn't sure why he'd thought he would.

* * *

It wasn't until they were wandering down to the train station, lollipops in hand and souvenir bags hanging from the crooks of their arms, that Ann spoke up.

"You know... Mika said something else when she was going off on me." She didn't look lost anymore, but more at peace, somehow. "She... wanted to know why I was hesitating." Then she snorted. "Or, well... y'know. She probably didn't actually want to know. She was pretty pissed."

Akira held his tongue.

"She said that I never hesitate, and that was my 'only redeeming quality, seeing as I'm such an idiot'." Ann twirled the lollipop in the air in front of her. "And you know? She was right. I _don't_ hesitate."

"It's a big decision," he allowed carefully. It was a big decision with a _very clear answer_ that she _wasn't making._

"I've been losing sleep over it," she said, dry, and he almost wanted to _snap._ "But... she made me think about that today. Why I've been having so much trouble deciding what to do about this."

He wasn't sure he wanted to know, but after a moment of repose, Ann told him anyway.

"I think I was running from something." Plastic stick tangled in her fingers, she locked her hands and stretched them high above her head, gaze fixed sightlessly on the swirls of cement, then dropped them with a sigh. "I couldn't think it through because I just wanted an escape, and here's this escape route, this perfect opportunity dropped right into my lap."

He swallowed thickly.

"But... I guess it's not that perfect, huh." He could hear the scuff of her heels against the ground, even if he couldn't bring himself to look. "I knew that, and it... scared me so much. Almost as much as..." She trailed off, then a flicker of panic crossed her face and she locked her jaw.

_As much as what?_ he wanted to press, but the more pressing question here was, "So you'll stay?"

"I'm not sure yet!" she said, _entirely_ to cheery for the way his chest seized at the words. "But I think I'll be able to think about it clearly now."

"Oh," he said, and prayed she couldn't hear how tight his throat was.

"I'm gonna ask for more details the next time I see them," she said decisively, like that was any kind of 'decision' at all. "Maybe I can get away from a few parties or entertain some other way or something. I'll never know 'til I ask!"

That was a poor comfort, but comfort all the same.

The silence fell again, but Ann didn't let it go on nearly as long this time.

"Okay, listen," she said, fixing him with an abruptly _intense_ stare. "If I go, we _have_ to keep in contact. I expect updates as often as possible!" She poked his shoulder with a single finger. "In texts _and_ phone calls _and_ video calls. Daily might be hard, but at _least_ once a week, or I'm gonna get super worried."

Her insistence... _unwound_ something in him. It wasn't full relief, but he could feel the tension bleed out of him. "Only if you update me too."

"Of course!" she said like it was just a given—and maybe it was, but all he was left with was a hollow ache in the pit of his stomach.

It was a _vast_ improvement.

He'd get to keep her. Somehow, some way, he'd get to keep her. And if she had to cry, at least she wouldn't be crying alone.

"Good."

"And..." She faltered, her confidence flickering as she glanced back down at her lollipop, then inhaled and looked him dead in the eye again, confidential and audacious. She reached over to, lo and behold, pinch his cheek. "If you _ever_ forget I love you, I _swear_ I'll fly right back home and sit on you until you admit the error of your ways."

Akira's stomach gave one neat little flip, then burst into a violent storm of butterflies.

Those three little words were _far_ too casual to mean what he wanted them to mean, but that didn't mean that they weren't _doing things_ to him.

"What happened to 'not coming back'?" he muttered, voice flat and thick with relief.

She let go of him to wave the question off. "I just won't take the job if they don't give me vacation days."

Which wasn't actually an answer, but he let it slide. 'Not taking the job' was the best case scenario here, after all.

She pulled out the envelope that held their pictures and giggled at the top one—the one where she'd stuffed her (hot pink, glittery, ribbon-bedecked) mouse-ears hat on his head and stolen his own (plain, black, _tasteful_) hat in its stead, her arm slung around his shoulders and pulling him down to her level as she beamed at the camera and he merely tolerated it all.

"Man, you let me get away with _way_ too much," she said with a certain amount of chagrin.

"You could get away with more than that," he said. She could get away with a _lot_ more than that, actually.

She shot him a sharp glance, then, slyly: "Oh yeah? How much more?"

"I draw the line at dismemberment."

"That leaves a _lot_ of room for interpretation, you know."

(He was imagining her gaze dropping to his mouth for a second there... right?)

Imagined or not, he had no compulsions about returning the favor, admiring the soft red painted over her lips and plush, expressive curve of them and letting himself imagine, just for a second, what it would be like to kiss her. What that would taste-feel-sound like, gentle or fierce, wet or innocent or needy or affectionate or hungry or just sweet-sweet-sweet—"I know."

She stared at him, wide-eyed and pink-cheeked, then she turned her chin away, and delight sparked through the butterflies in his stomach.

(Maybe-maybe-maybe—)

"Flirting like that's gonna get you into trouble one day."

He let his gaze dance over her form, sticking to the hint of the flesh pressing over the low waist of her jeans and the way the denim flawlessly hugged the juction between thigh and ass. "Just 'trouble'?"

From the way her step hitched, he was pretty sure she'd been expecting him to deny it. Her brow knitted, perplexed. "What else would it get you in... to..."

She then trailed off, lips parting, then whipped around to face him.

He looked up a fraction of a second too late to _fully_ avoid getting caught, but met her eye all the same and let one corner of his mouth hook into the smirk it desperately wanted to be in.

_"Akira!"_ she squawked, spluttering as her pretty flush darkened into scarlet and she tripped over her feet. "That— no! That, that, _that's—!"_

He muffled his snicker in his fist.

Ann just groaned, pressing the heel of her palm to her reddened forehead and threading the strands of her composure back together. "That was _terrible._ Just... awful."

When he showed no sign of remorse, Ann reached over to flick his nose.

"Ow."

It _stung,_ hitting that odd set of nerves that had the corners of his eyes dampening and his scalp zapping, and when he finished rubbing away the worst of the feeling away, he found her watching him with sad, warm eyes.

"Hey, Aki-chan? I meant it." Those eyes sparkled in the streetlamps blinking to life above them, crinkling at the corners with a smile that barely touched her mouth. "Keep me updated. If you ever need a friend—if you ever need _anything,_ you have my number. And I'm gonna get pissed if you don't use it."

Throat tight, the moment electric under his skin, he could only nod.

(_**Arcana Lovers: Rank 8**_

_New Ability:_  
**[Ann's Support]**  
_Endure a fatal hit once per battle._)

* * *

They went their separate ways at the train station, as they were wont to do.

Ann stopped him outside the ticket gate, reaching up to caress his jaw with the backs of her knuckles and encourage him to look at her.

For one heart-stopping moment, he thought she was really, honestly, truly going to _kiss_ him.

She didn't—instead aiming for the middle of the cheek closest to her—but it was so close that he could taste the ghost of it on his tongue as she pulled back.

"I'll text you once I know for sure," she said, then embraced him, hitting him all over again with just how soft and small and _warm_ she was in his arms when he automatically returned the embrace. "And... thank you. For putting up with me like this. I... I don't think I've ever had a friend like you before."

...Yep, that still stung like a bitch.

He considered the statement for a few seconds, then decided that now probably wasn't the best moment to say, _You could have a boyfriend like me, too, you know._

"Anything for you, _Nee-san."_

(He was maybe, perhaps, just _slightly_ bitter.)

Her breathing hitched, a wave of tension running through her frame, then she relaxed with a huff of a giggle and let him go.

"Catch you later, okay?"

He nodded and watched her go, then turned away to find his own train.

* * *

Morgana joined him at the door of Leblanc, tail swishing as he said, _"There_ you are! I've been _waiting_ for _hours_—... Huh? What's up?"

"...I'm never going to understand girls."

"Now that's quitter talk," Morgana scolded as he followed at Akira's heels. "All we need to do is put our minds to it. We should hit up the library at school tomorrow, before we hang out with Mishima. And you should think about picking up that Flowerpedia from Shinjuku! It's sure to come in handy the next time you work at the flower shop. Oh, oh, and..."

* * *

**Rank 9**

* * *

**Ann:** So, I know it's kinda late, but...  
**Ann:** How do you feel about steak?  
**Ann:** I ordered too much and now I have extra.  
**Akira:** I'll take it.  
**Ann:** Great. I'll send you the address.

* * *

Not only was that _not_ an update on the status of her job, but when he got to the address she'd texted him, it wasn't her apartment.

It was a restaurant—the kind of restaurant that looked like all its menu items cost tens of thousands of yen, with decor to match.

He half-expected to get bounced from the entrance for not being dressed in Alexandra McKing, but when he cautiously approached the reservation desk and asked for Ann Takamaki, the server looked him over and nodded, then lead him to a table on the upper floor, near the bank of floor-to-ceiling windows.

Ann was the only one seated at it, despite the four other chairs that resided empty around the edge, and...

She was _stunning._

Not to imply that she wasn't normally stunning, but the way the misty blue folds of her dress pulled tight over her torso, the way the shadows played in the dips below her collarbone and between her shoulder blades, the way her melancholic reserve painted her face picturesque...

'Model' felt like a cheap label for a goddess.

And then he registered the rest of the table.

_It_ looked like a _crime scene._

The tablecloth was splattered in red, the centerpiece spilling stones and flowers away from away from her and bits of... _something_ trailing sauce down the window, chairs skewed and rugs scattered and tableware upended.

Really, between the tragically beautiful femme fatale and the remnants of what may or may not have been bloody assault next to her, Akira wondered if maybe he should have come wearing a trench coat. It was a pity his only existed in the Metaverse.

He had about as many questions as your local hard-boiled detective, too, and the most predominant of them all was:

"Who died?"

Ann greeted him with a sheepish smile. "My career."

...What?

At his alarmed look, she amended, "Well, not my _whole_ career. I am gonna get in trouble though."

"What happened?" he asked as he cautiously selected one of the cleaner chairs to sit in. He suspected that this going to be an interesting tale.

"I, uh..." She winced. "Turned down the job offer."

Hope _sang_ behind his teeth, and a check revealed no lie in her face, no lie in her voice, no lie in the guilty look she was aiming at the wreck in front of her.

"So you're not leaving?" he had to double-check—his voice didn't crack, but that didn't mean it was particularly steady.

"Nope," she said, inordinately cheerful, then after a moment of thought, wryly amended, "I mean, I could _probably_ go back and apologize, but..." She leaned back in her chair and made a face.

Relief.

Pure, intense, unadulterated _relief._

She wasn't going to leave. She wasn't going to do a job that _used her_ like that. She was _staying staying staying—_

The rest of her story floated through his ears, only half-registered when his hands were trembling and his heart was rattling his teeth and every ounce of tension in him had dissipated like smoke in water.

She was _staying._

"I just wanted to ask a few questions about my options," she was saying, defensive, "but then the CEO _kinda_ called me a whore and I kinda... dumped the bottle of red over his head and told him he could go fuck himself." She studied her empty wine glass with pursed lips. "I might be a little tipsy."

"Oh," he said, and his voice did crack this time. His chest hurt, throat hurt, something in him breaking and crumbling away—

She looked at him—_really_ looked at him—and blinked, slow and bemused.

He took a second to breathe through the ache, a second to scrub the sting out of the corners of his eyes, and upon finding that he still had her undivided attention, asked, "...What?"

"I... didn't know you cared this much," she said. She was staring at him like she'd never seen him before.

Maybe she really hadn't. That was the most ridiculous thing he'd ever heard.

"Why wouldn't I?"

It was her.

Apparently there'd been a miscommunication somewhere, though, because all she had to offer was a blank, quiet, "...Huh."

He broke away from the staring contest first, unable to identify the emotion in her eyes and not especially wanting to, watching the slow drip-drip-drip of pink-ish liquid escape the tablecloth and hit the small puddle forming on the white marble floor. He tried to get his emotions back under control and meeting with partial success.

Four, five, six drops joined the puddle before she spoke again.

"By the way, steak is okay with you, right? There's also fish and duck... I wish this place did takeout containers."

He looked up to find her flagging down a server, all artless grace and expressive charm, glowing in a way that really _was_ just short of divinity, and felt the ache start up in his chest again.

She was _staying._

"Takeout containers?" he echoed.

"The whole table ordered, but they didn't stay long enough for the main courses to arrive," she sighed, picking up a fork seemingly at random and using it to spear an unidentifiable hor d'oeuvre from one of the wrecked platters. "I figured it would be a shame to let the chef's work go to waste." She gestured at him with the golden brown stick and an easy wink. "Thanks for helping me out with it!"

The thought of bringing raw ingredients back home for Sojiro dissipated, replaced by a little twist at the thought that she'd invited him here for this. "I couldn't possibly turn down the chance to see you again."

It came out roughly as breezily cavalier as he intended it, but her eyes still cut to him, piercingly serious, not faltering even when the server arrived with their plates.

After a few heartbeats, she looked away with a stilted laugh. "Y-you never do let up on that, do you. The flirting."

_She was staying_ and, abruptly, it occurred to him that the very last thing he wanted was to risk pushing her away. "...Do you want me to?"

She avoided his eye and didn't answer immediately, and when she did, it was with an unsettlingly neutral hum.

He waited, breath not baited so much as just _stuck._

Eventually, in an undertone so low he could barely hear it, she said, "It just... you keep talking like that, and sometimes..." Her shoulders slumped for a moment, then she rested her chin on her fist and flashed him a smile that did a poor job of covering up the wistfulness (...want?) under it. "Sometimes you make me wonder what you'd let me get away with."

"Anything," he said immediately, because that... maybe almost kind of (please, god _please_) meant what he thought it meant. "Anything at all."

Something opened up in her expression, then softened and melted into a look that had his mouth going dry, electricity humming under his skin, his heart nearly flayed and served on the platter in front of her.

"...Oh," was all she said, just enough weight in that single syllable to pull his own longing out until it was _excruciating._

Then she looked aside, breathed a laugh, and said, "We... we should eat. Our food's getting cold."

That wasn't an answer. He almost thought he would have preferred it if she'd shot him down right there just for the sake of _getting one_—the feeling of his heart flayed and set on a platter was starting to drown everything else out, the tension _singing_ behind his teeth.

He bit his tongue until it hurt, forced air into his lungs all the way to capacity, then slowly let it out again, and nodded.

* * *

By the time they finished eating, the wild urge to throw a tantrum had subsided back into a steady pulse of _need_ low in the pit of his stomach—nonurgent. Ignorable. Patient.

If nothing else, Akira was good at taking his time.

That didn't mean his heart didn't just up and stop when she stopped him just outside her car (...she had one of those?), blushing under the cheap lighting of the underground garage.

"So..." she said, a feathery edge to her voice to match the playful intent on her face (god, _she was so close—_), "when you said I could get away with 'anything'..."

Breathing was optional, right? Right.

"Are... are kiss-..." Her throat worked, the bow of her lips twitching minutely. "—kisses included?"

Breathing was _definitely_ optional. Especially considering this was a dream. Because there were warm fingertips trailing down his jaw, encouraging him to tilt his head down, half-mast liquid blue eyes focused on his mouth so intensely it _tingled_ under the attention, and he'd dreamed about this too many times for this scene to be unfamiliar.

But it was too tactile to be a dream, he noted as he nodded, tongue tied. His dreams were _vivid,_ not _palpable._

She showed no surprise, just happy satisfaction. "Good."

And then she kissed him.

Which was fine, great, _amazing_ actually—and so real. So very, very _real._

Chills and tingles and _goosebumps,_ a moan rising in his throat as she sighed, high and sweet and fluttery and _feminine,_ the sound of it vibrating against his lips as she pressed all those soft curves flush against him—

Heat chasing the sparks, heavy as that need in the pit of his stomach bloomed, grew, turned all-consuming and _ravenous—_

The wet clicks as they moved, the plush pressure and suggestive slide, the hint of waxy cosmetics and whispers of damp breath, the taste of her tongue, musk and mouth, so _hot_ he might die, right here, right now—

Ann.

_Ann, Ann, Ann, Ann..._

He didn't swoon when she pulled away—only by centimeters, panting almost as hard as he was—which was good, because that wouldn't be even the least bit smooth. That would be the opposite of smooth.

...There was probably some reason being smooth was important. He couldn't quite recall at the moment.

"I think I could get used to that," she confessed, near-voiceless and catching on a stunned laugh. The delighted smile on her face and sheer _awe_ in her eyes were dragging him dangerously close to that swoon. Breathless, _unbearably_ hopeful—"Y-you don't mind... do you?"

_Not fair, not fair, not fair,_ she just wasn't _fair._

He was _definitely_ weak at the knees now.

There were probably words to answer that question somewhere out there, but they were all lost to the love-drunk haze. Much easier, much more _necessary_ to just kiss her again.

(_**Arcana Lovers: Rank 9**_

_New Ability:_  
**[Soul of a Model]**  
_Receive bonus points during confidant interactions more often._)

His blood pressure and pulse rate were both worryingly high when that kiss ended, face hot and head swimming, lips-cheeks-chin tingling like the aftermath of the sweetest Zio there ever was. At some point, they'd maneuvered so her back was against the side of her car and he was braced on the glass beside her, and the proximity...

Her lipstick was smeared. The flush on her cheeks was rosy-deep. Her eyes—glazed over and as satisfied as they were _wanting._

"I'll... take that as a no," she whispered into the five or so centimeters between them.

For the nth time today, he was helpless to do anything more than nod.

She trailed her hand down his arm, an infinitely gentle gesture for him to step back, and said, "C'mon, I'll give you a ride to the station."

* * *

He _might_ have recovered his wits by the time he got on the train if she hadn't stolen one last kiss through the rolled-down window as she dropped him off, but such was life. Who was he to complain?

He wasn't fully sure how he got back, just that he kept catching a silly grin on his face and couldn't keep it down, that he could barely hear Morgana's scolding as he floated up the attic stairs, that he was still tingling _all over_ when he folded onto his futon and absolutely did _not_ giggle into his pillow.

He might have sighed a little. Maybe. At most.

_Ann, Ann, Ann, Ann..._

Morgana hopped onto his back, as judgemental as only (someone who certainly wasn't) a cat could be, and said, "You sure had a good time with Ann, huh."

"Uh-huh," he replied, and gave up on fighting the grin. No one could see it; it was fine.

Morgana sighed massively to let Akira know he was quite put-upon, then shook out his fur and went on, cheerier, "Well, I'm glad you're happy. You should get some sleep; we've got a whole day ahead of us tomorrow."

(Cross his heart and swear to die that Akira _really tried,_ but between the events of the evening and Morgana deciding that his bulk belonged right on top of Akira's lungs, it was a long while before he managed.)

* * *

**Rank 10**

* * *

Ann: Hey, Aki-neko, that cat cafe's still doing its special...  
Ann: Come with me?  
Akira: Of course.  
Ann: It's a date.

* * *

He was still staring at his phone, trying to decide whether or not to text a heart back (so, _so_ embarrassing, but... maybe worth it? ...maybe), when he arrived outside the cafe.

_Smitten Kitten Special Offer :__ Married couples get __two__ FREE drinks with FREE refills with the purchase of __two__ all-day passes, nyan~! _

...Right. The offer _had_ been for couples that were... well, married.

The flustered jumble of nerves didn't have time to blossom into full-on awkwardness.

"There you are, _darling,"_ said Ann, standing from a bench he hadn't seen and coming over with that warm welcome in her smile that was always there, but now backed with the promise that she wanted to be with him, wanted to 'get used' to kissing him, wanted _him_— "I have something for you!"

It was, of course, the ring.

He missed a couple of beats putting it on this time (the butterflies in his stomach were _distracting_ dammit), but he slipped it onto his left ring finger in the end.

She tapped her lips with the first two fingers of _her_ left hand, the trio of stones set in the 'wedding' band sparkling in the sunlight, and winked at him.

Which was already about three fantasies he'd never admit to having had, but then she opened her mouth and said, "With this ring, I thee wed."

...Ah.

The sing-song teasing tone didn't help. Not one bit. The opposite, really.

He covered his mouth and looked away, ears and cheeks absolutely _burning,_ heart beating a whole damn drum rally in his chest and his stomach in even more knots and flutters than before.

Ann stared. He could feel it boring into the side of his face, no matter his attempts to hide the blush from her.

The silence was long enough to feel, and then she breathed a laugh and said, "W-well, that's kinda more awkward to joke about now, huh?"

He made a strangled-sounding hum, because all he could think was about how nice she'd look in white, and he might die, _actually die_ of embarrassment if that thought was aired to the world.

_"Anyway,_ I want hot cocoa. Let's go!"

* * *

Apparently, Ann's allergy to personal space had been permanent. Which was _fine,_ except it really wasn't, and having her plastered to his side yet again (_without_ that edge of desperate panic) was making the electric pool of heat in his gut much harder to ignore.

...Pun slightly intended.

"I was hoping you were still here," Ann was cooing to the calico, nose-to-nose with it and both of them unfairly happy. More to him than the cat, she said, "I was thinking, now that I'm not moving out, maybe this kitty can come home with me. I didn't even know I wanted a cat before I met her."

He hadn't submitted to being gifted (and dressed in) those cat ears again for this kind of treatment. "Rude."

"She was here before you were a kitty, hush," Ann said easily, like she didn't think a single thing of it, but his mind was flashing back to her erratic behavior lately, and how far that behavior went back, and—

She reached over and flicked his prosthetic ear, her chin brushing his shoulder. "Two cute kitties to take home—I'm pretty lucky, huh?"

"...Meow."

It made her snicker as she swayed away, and after she trailed off (leaving those cool sparks dancing down his spine), she studied the purring feline in her lap. "I'm gonna need supplies for this girl, huh. I wish I'd made a list. Food is first, and a litterbox, probably some toys..."

Her excitement was something to behold, all bright eyes and eager intent and infectious energy. Beholding it when he was theoretically allowed to just lean over and _kiss her_ was a dangerous thought—apparently even theoretical kisses left him feeling hot and gooey inside.

...He was smiling like a loon again, dammit.

He searched for a distraction topic and landed on, "How is work?"

Which was possibly the _lamest_ conversation starter in the history of ever, much less _dates,_ but Ann just winced and sighed.

"Not _too_ bad," she said, and he abruptly remembered the whole _my career died_ thing and kicked himself for forgetting. "They're having me pay the damages and I got a good long lecture, but I'm my agency's top earner, so they can't come down on me _that_ hard."

"...That's impressive."

"Is it?" she asked, like it was an honest question, then looked up and decided, "I guess it kinda is, huh." She shot him a sheepish, confidential look. "I had to work _really hard_ to keep Mika from stealing it, but now that she's leaving, guess that leaves me without much competition, huh."

Akira blinked. "Leaving?"

"Oh! Didn't I tell you? They gave her the job." She scratched the cat behind the ears, eyelashes dipping ever so slightly when it approved. "Looking back, she's actually kind of perfect for it. She's already so comfortable being whatever people want her to be... and I'm only ever comfortable being me." She let her head fall to the side and flattened her palm on the calico's nek, her long, thick eyelashes fluttering shut and the light catching the faint golden shimmer on her eyelids. "I really should have just let her have it the minute I realized what they wanted me to do, huh?"

_Yes,_ he didn't say, because it was over and done with and he didn't want her to slam the door on him again. Instead, he said, "Why didn't you?"

"Mm..." was all she had to reply, and he watched as her expression clouded.

...Maybe he shouldn't have asked.

Enough time passed in silence that he thought that that was it, but then, eyes dimmed, she said, "I was running from you. Or... how I felt about you, I guess. Kinda dumb, wasn't it."

A nameless emotion squeezed his lungs tight, gut lurching.

"That's... one word for it."

('Horrifying' was another. Not only had he helped her land the job, but he'd very nearly pushed her into _taking it?_)

"I couldn't get you out of my head," she admitted, running the tips of her fingers over the calico's head. "I was scared and... ashamed. And no matter what I did, it just kept getting worse. You were getting more and more and more important to me in all the wrong ways, and I felt like the lowest of the low for it."

He wasn't sure if he wanted to interrupt her here or not. Hearing someone that you'd wanted in all sorts of ways for about as long as you could remember confess that they had a crisis of faith upon _wanting you back_ left you with that kind of dilemma.

She pulled the cat closer. "I... didn't really want to take that job, especially after I found out what they wanted me to do, but you asked me to stay, looking like the world was ending, and I almost kissed you."

...Oh.

"Leaving seemed like my only way out after that." She kissed the calico's head, more for comfort than affection—he knew the feeling. "Cut contact for a while, get my head in order... maybe we could meet up again in a few years and my feelings would have gone away and everything would be okay."

He didn't have something witty to say here. He didn't really have _anything_ to say here except, "...So what changed your mind?"

(He hoped to _god_ she'd really changed her mind.)

"I realized that you're you and I'm me, and maybe I don't have to think so hard over... all of this." That, at least, seemed to lighten her mood. The warmth in her smile could probably be weaponized.

"Thinking is overrated."

She slumped over sideways and rested her cheek on his shoulder. "You're telling me."

_Close._

In many ways, but he was mostly thinking about her physical proximity. She'd never had much shame, and apparently an actual relationship (which they had, definitely and _actually,_ not pretend, not just in his mind, it was _real_—) had reduced that amount even more.

Or not, because she popped upright seconds later. "And now! I start my career as a crazy cat lady with _two_ cats. Pretty ambitious, huh."

..._Really?_

He dourly eyed down her beaming smile. _What am I,_ he wanted to ask, _chopped liver?_

He wasn't even that. He was a _housepet._

She rested her chin on his shoulder this time, grin wide and unrepentant. "And both are very important members of this new family."

...He had _so_ many mixed feelings here.

She didn't move away, and her _face_ was... really, _really_ close like this, he noticed belatedly. Close enough that the minute dip of her eyelashes was radiantly obvious, that he could see the way her lip gloss glistened, that there was no way to avoid inhaling her on every breath—

(Oh, it would be so easy to just _kiss_ her.)

She glanced to the side, over her shoulder at the rest of the cafe outside of their nook, then tickled under his chin, her grin taking a turn for the mischevious.

The undersides of chins were slightly more sensitive than he'd given them credit for. _Slightly._

Then, like pretending he was an _actual_ cat wasn't enough, she said, "C'mere," and—

Pressed her lips, soft and full and firm, against his.

Which—

Was.

Sure, he'd _thought_ about it, but. But.

Well—they were _in a public place,_ for one—

...Mortified or not, he was going to melt. Literally _melt_ from the inside out, and she'd just have to deal with the murder charge, because his pulse didn't 'skyrocket' so much as it just up and landed on the moon, and it didn't seem likely to come back down any time soon, and that wasn't good for anyone.

Kisses on the cheek and zero personal space were bad enough, but at least they were _passably_ platonic, if you knew Ann. Kisses like this—

She showed zero repentance, zero _awareness,_ in fact, even though they had a whole cast of cats as witnesses, maybe the waitresses, maybe—

What exactly had he signed himself up for, here?

"You have _no_ shame, do you," he managed, surprisingly steady—which was to say 'not steady at all, but mostly coherent.'

She giggled, carefree and not at all like someone who was going to grow one in the near future, then tipped away, leaving his shoulder icy-cold and his mouth tingling. "I'm glad I decided to stay."

The only correct answer here was, _me too,_ but the cat was purring and the thermostat in this cafe seemed to have broken and the whole top half of his face was _on fire,_ so he was just... gonna pass this time. Words were overrated.

She deposited said cat in his lap. "Hold her for a minute; I'm gonna go ask them about the adoption papers."

The calico purred louder at him, treating him to a languid blink.

Slowly, he gathered his wits enough to repeat the fingertip-pet he'd seen Ann do, then scritched behind its ears.

From the way it headbutted into his palm, he'd say it approved.

* * *

A few hours later saw them driving back to her apartment—well, trying to drive; the traffic in Shibuya was killer right now—cat carrier lying empty in the backseat and its occupant (now dubbed 'Carmen') standing in Akira's lap to investigate the stopped cars outside the window.

Ann groaned and rested her forehead against the steering wheel, ring forgotten and still glittering on her finger. "I should have just bought the pet pass. Driving is the _worst."_

"Is that why you walk everywhere?"

She heaved a sigh. "Yeah. I'd rather walk from one end of Tokyo to the other than have to deal with _this."_

As much as he liked the extra time with her, he couldn't say he didn't understand where she was coming from. Sitting in traffic was a special kind of mind-numbing.

Carmen got bored with the window and moved on to sniffing out the seat divider, delicate paws kneading into Akira's thighs.

It left his mind to wander, inevitably straying back to the kiss, the other kisses, the sheer _relief_ that she was _staying, staying, staying,_ the fact that she'd turned down the shitty job and was _staying_ and was _his_ and how much of a relief it was to see her there and hear that she'd turned it down—

Wait.

"...How did the table end up like that?"

"Hm?"

"At the restaurant. It was a mess." Crime scenes did not come from wasted wine alone.

An odd look crossed her face. "I... uh. W-well, I said it, didn't I? I had an argument with the CEO. And dumped the drinks on his head."

He waited.

As he watched, her mouth flattened at stretched, then her nose wrinkled, then she winced delicately, then she stared sightlessly at her steering wheel for several seconds.

At the end of all that, she gave a strained laugh and said, "Well, I'm sure they'll like Mika much better. She's really good at not losing her cool, y'know? She can be sweet and polite under any circumstances if she's motivated enough."

...Now he _really_ wanted to know.

"I believe it," he offered, because there were about twenty holes in that description and none of them were flattering—plus, if he had to give Mika credit for anything, she definitely had the soul of a weed.

"Mm-hm!" Ann agreed, cheer restoring itself. Then, without pause: "You just thought something rude, didn't you."

"Me? Never."

She hummed like she didn't believe him for a second, and Akira bit the inside of his cheek against a grin.

Carmen found something in the seat divider worth a sneeze and chirped at him for attention, gently headbutting his stomach, so Akira turned his attention to the royal duties of feline-petting.

* * *

Shopping was fun, especially considering that he wasn't trying on fifteen outfits in a row this time, but she stole not one, but _two_ more kisses in between the isles of cat toys, which he really could have done without—

(No, he couldn't. He wanted those for ever and ever and ever and _ever,_ no matter how embarrassing or inappropriate.)

—and he just _buckled_ under them.

Which was vastly unfair, especially seeing as his attempts at revenge only got rosy blushes and sweet giggles, which backfired harder than they did anything else.

Still, they made it back to her apartment in one piece, arms full of bags and a sack of cat food slung over his shoulder.

Ann didn't immediately go for her keys to open the door, instead hesitating and saying, "Hey, Akira?"

"Hm?"

She could probably melt the sun with that smile if she tried. "I'm glad I found you again."

He swallowed, mind flashing through all the things she'd said today. "Even through... all that?"

"Uh-huh!" she said.

And that was that.

(_I am thou, __**thou**__ art I...  
Thou hast turned a __**vow**__ into a blood oath._

_Thy bond shall become the wings of __**rebellion**__  
and __**break**__ the yoke of thy heart._

_Thou hast awakened to the __**ultimate**__ secret  
of the Lovers, granting thee __**infinite**__ power..._)

(_**Arcana Lovers: Rank 10 MAX**_

_New Ability:_  
**[Second Home]**  
_Restore a small bit of HP and SP after each battle._)

(**FUSION UNLOCKED**

_You can now fuse __**Ishtar**__, the most powerful Persona of the Lovers arcana._)

"C'mon," she said, pulling out her keys and fitting them into the lock. "Help me get her set up before you have to go."

"Already I'm out on the streets..." he sighed, putting on airs in hopes of luring her a little closer. He tilted his head and cracked open one eye, saying, "That was fast."

She hummed lackadaisically, then splayed her hand on his chest and went up on her toes to press a quick kiss to his cheek. Leaning back so she could look at him, her mouth crooked into an honest-to-god _smirk._ Breathy, with only the slightest waver in her voice: "I _was_ planning to give you a reason to keep coming back, you know."

...Oh hell.

"I look forward to it," he said, like someone whose whole body _hadn't_ just flooded with breathless heat and razor-sharp awareness, who wasn't feeling goosebumps prickling from head to toe and electricity crackling in his gut, and followed her inside.


End file.
